


Learning to Breathe

by youcomecrash



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Football, F/M, First Time, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Hate to Love, Het is mentioned, M/M, Minor Liam Payne/Danielle Peazer, Minor Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Past Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Reconciliation, Secret Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but nothing graphic, originally posted on livejournal and tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 110,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcomecrash/pseuds/youcomecrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s playing football at one of the top universities in England and he should love everything about his life right now, but instead he’s moving backwards. How does your past fit into your present? Louis is still figuring it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

  

**University of Essex | Practice pitch**

"Tommo!"

Louis drops his bag onto the bench and grins at his friends as they barrel toward him, dodging Liam and Zayn's attempts to pelt him with ice chips while Niall crows happily behind them.

Louis wipes at his practice jersey, flinging off the quickly melting ice. "Oi! Is this any way to treat your captain? I'm insulted."

Zayn laughs while Liam pulls him into a half hug, "Oh, captain! My captain! S'good to have you back, mate."

"Feels good to be back," he smiles into Liam's hair, returning the squeeze.

"And it was about damn time too," Zayn spits. He turns serious in that moment, eyes scanning the Essex practice field. "S'turned into a bloody circus 'round here. We've not been drilling a week and Brewer's already busted his ankle up and Sully's chipping looks like shit!"

He shouts the last part as the aforementioned male jogs along the side of the field within earshot. "I heard that, you dick!"

But Zayn isn't paying him any attention.

Louis laughs but quickly sobers, scrubbing a hand through his hair, "Brewer's ankle serious?"

Liam shrugs. "Don’t know for sure. He's been off it a few days but medic said we shouldn't risk it."

Louis sighs heavily, anxiety building in his gut. Losing their best forward right now really isn't an option.

"How's the knee?"

Louis’ eyes flicker to Niall. The Irish goalkeeper is taking long swigs of water from the cooler, eyes and cheeks bright. He gives the knee in question an experimental shake as if to test its stability, even though he knows by now it really is fine. His mind is still trying to catch up though, still a bit stuck in the immediate days after his accident earlier in the summer.

Louis always thought if he was ever unfortunate enough to get injured it would be on the pitch, not from being t-boned by some asshole running through a traffic light. Thankfully, his car had taken most of the damage (although his fractured kneecap was close competition). They’d done the surgery as soon as possible and his doctor had given him a clean bill of health a week ago. Today was his first day back to practice at Essex.

"Good as new, Nialler. Surgery went well."

"So you're back from summer holiday for good then?" Zayn ribs.

"I wouldn't call being trapped in a bed for six weeks a holiday, but yes."

"I'm sure it wasn't all bad, Tommo," Zayn laughs and gives his shoulder a good tap, "I'm sure Calder was there to bring you _breakfast in bed_.”

Louis coughs awkwardly. "Yeah, uh...Not exactly."

He inwardly groans at the confused looks now flittering between his friends. This wasn’t a discussion he wanted to have today. Or, um, ever.

"We, uh, we sort of... _I_ sort of finished with her."

"Wha’?" Niall squawks.

" _You_ dumped _her_?” Zayn interrupts. Louis nods faintly after a beat of silence. He gives a cursory glance to the field beyond them where his other teammates are milling about, waiting for practice to start, and he can feel his skin buzzing with his own excitement. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation right now.

“And when did this happen?"

Louis breaks eye contact from his clearly shocked friends as he pretends to mull the question over. Was breaking up with his girlfriend that big of a shock? Sure, they’d been dating for more than a year but surely his friends couldn't have expected him to stay with her forever? He honestly didn't know what the big deal was.

"I don’t know. Like, over a month, maybe?"

"What? Why is this the first we're hearing of it?" Zayn actually looks put out with the news and Louis would laugh if this whole conversation wasn’t making him itch.

They don't look mad exactly. They're friends with El, sure. But something tells him it probably has more to do with the fact that he's kind of been avoiding them (everyone, really) since his accident.

Louis shrugs, "Nothing to tell really."

Niall shakes his head and offers a consoling pat to Louis’ shoulder. "You alright, mate?"

Louis laughs liltingly at his friends’ concern. They look even more confused but Louis just wraps his arms around Niall and Liam's shoulders and gives a reassuring squeeze.

" _Yes_ , i'm fine, you tossers. Never better, in fact. Now, can we get to practice before Cowell has our heads?"

His friends roll their eyes but concede, and before Louis can let go of Niall and Liam's shoulders he feels his feet being pulled from underneath him and suddenly he's up in the air (and if an undignified squeal escapes his throat he's not admitting to it).

"Put me down!"

"We can't do that," Zayn quips loudly, gripping his ankles tighter around his neck as he walks them toward the center of the pitch.

"You're our loyal and brave captain," Niall adds, "back from the fires of hell, a.k.a. the hospital, and we, your humble servants, shall carry you to midfield."

"Fucking weirdos, all of you. I got in a car accident, I didn't die," he counters, but he's laughing at their ridiculousness and gives up fighting them about halfway up the field.

"Okay, lads, don't go giving him any bright ideas. He looks a little too comfortable up there, if you ask me." Sully, their attacking midfielder, perks up from the huddle of football players standing midfield.

"Thankfully, no one did, Sully."

"Sod off, Tomlinson."

"Is that any way to speak to your king?" He only grins wider when Sully flips him off.

Zayn drops his feet then and before he knows it half the footie team have launched themselves at him and he's hit with a chorus of _welcome back_  and _good to see you_.

Louis closes his eyes and exhales, hugging his teammates and loving the feeling of the sun shining on his face again and the smell of wet morning grass because yes, he really did miss this.

"Alright boys! Break it up!"

Louis snaps his head in the direction of his head coach's unmistakable voice. At a quick glance he can see the man striding up the field from the direction of the locker rooms, clipboard tucked under his arm and a net full of footballs dragging behind him. He's not alone though; there's a small group of at least seven or eight boys trailing behind him, but Louis can't be sure since they're still a good distance away. He shields his eyes to get a better look but someone tugging on his arm distracts his efforts.

"Hey, can I talk to you a mo?" Zayn asks from his side. He sounds urgent, like he just remembered something important.

"Uh, yeah yeah, one second."

"No. Now." His hand grips into Louis' elbow. Louis reluctantly allows his friend to pull him to the back of the group.

"Who's that lot with Cowell?" 

"That's what I need to talk to you about."

Louis' eyebrows knit together, confused.

"Uh, well."

"Well? Out with it, Zee."

"Alright, lads!" Coach Cowell’s voice is loud and booming as it pulls both boys’ attention back. Louis immediately catches the eyes of his head coach over the heads of his teammates and the older man offers a small but fond smile and a single nod of his head in return. _Welcome back_.

Louis barely registers Zayn’s resigned sigh as the boy draws away from him and wanders back over to stand by Liam. Louis crosses his arms dutifully and prepares to listen to their coach. After weeks of being out of action, he can even say he's missed the morning practice talk-up.

"Good to see you lot here bright and early. As you know, we held try-outs four weeks back for the upcoming season."

Louis starts a bit at the reminder. Of course he knew try-outs were taking place. He was actually supposed to attend them himself along with the coaching staff and aid in the final decision, but his knee surgery had inconveniently taken precedence.

"I believe some of you have already met, but before drills today I want to officially introduce you to the new members of our team. I trust you’ll treat them with respect. I don’t want any funny business. We’re national title contenders this year, boys. Let’s act as such.”

Usually Louis might mock his coach’s spiel on team maturity, the light hazing that goes on year after year not nearly as bad as he makes it out to be. But today he’s just so thankful to be back on the pitch that he’s not even considering doing anything to jeopardize it.

Simon ushers for the new players to step forward and introduce themselves one by one. A stocky, scruffy looking guy steps forward first.

“Matt Cardle. M’from Southampton. I’m a central defender.” He doesn’t say anything else and Louis tries to pay attention as another steps in his place.

“Aiden Grimshaw. Blackpool. I’m a fullback.”

Louis glances to where his friends are to gauge their reaction to the new crop of players and startles to find Zayn already staring at him, as if he hasn’t even been watching the boys introduce themselves at all, but rather watching Louis the entire time instead.

Louis smirks confusedly but Zayn doesn’t explain himself so Louis just shrugs and re-focuses his attention.

He hears him before he sees him, the sound of his deep voice zipping up his spine, and suddenly Louis feels everything stop.

“Harry Styles. I’m from Cheshire. I play forward.”

Louis can feel his heart dropping into his stomach and his feet are moving before he can think it through. He doesn’t catch the concerned look on Zayn’s face or even hear the rest of the new recruits introducing themselves. There’s a buzzing in his ears as he pushes through his teammates to stand toward the front of the group.

Once he’s in the direct line of sight of his coach and the new players, his body finally halts. His palms are sweating and his heart is thumping in his chest and he thinks he might throw up.

It takes only a second, maybe two, for those green eyes to meet his across the distance of the pitch. And when they do they go impossibly wide with something like fear, and then panic, and then maybe a thousand different emotions in the measure of a second that Louis could never recognize from where he’s standing. But then his expression goes dark.

Louis doesn’t know if he ever expected to see those eyes again, let alone what he expected to find in them if he did, but he doesn’t think he’s prepared for what’s swimming in them now, because it’s an emotion he can definitely identify; it’s clear as day, as clear as if he were standing in the same spot he was in two years ago, where he received it for the first and last time.

Anger. Pure, unadulterated anger.


	2. Chapter 2

  
  
Louis can’t recall how he’d finally gotten out from underneath Harry’s cold gaze. One minute he was paralyzed on the field, his insides twisted into something unrecognizable and the next he’s running until he thinks his lungs might explode.  
  
“Alright, lads, that’s enough! Take a fiver before drills.”

Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to hear Paul’s voice in his life. The assistant coach gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he makes it to the sidelines, very clearly out of breath.

“You’re doing pretty damn well for being out seven weeks, Tommo.”  
  
Louis lifts his eyebrows once and laughs humorlessly, “Yeah, I’m practically Giggs out there.”  
  
Paul smiles, “Not quite.“ He gives Louis’ shoulder another quick squeeze, “but you’ll get it back.”  
  
Louis nods in agreement, mostly so they can stop discussing it. He'd rather not draw any more attention to how out of shape he is at the moment. Especially not while his teammates are running circles around him in warm up, of all things. Even Sully looks better than he does and he’s usually slow as fucking syrup. He turns to spit once in the grass and grips his side, trying to quell the burning of the cramp settling there.  
  
Fuck asshole drivers in shitty Pintos. Fuck football. Fuck practice.  _Fuck_  yard shuttles.  
  
And fuck Harry, too.  
  
 _Dammit_. It’s been two years without the boy invading every inch of his life like he owned it and now suddenly here he is again, at Louis’ school, on his field, on  _his_   _team_. And he’s just standing there, all lean, long and easy-breathing like his body was made for sprinting as he takes long pulls of water, adams apple bobbing with every swallow, a few stray drops escaping past his mouth to stream down his jaw and throat…  
  
“You alright, Lou?”  
  
Louis snaps his head in the direction of the voice. Niall’s suddenly there, offering him a cup of water that Louis gratefully accepts and proceeds to inhale. “Thanks, mate.”  
  
Liam catches his eye from the water cooler and levels him with his best Mummy Payne stare. Louis groans inwardly. For fucks sake, his friends act like he needs to be babysat or something. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate their concern, but really, he’s already got one hovering mum and that’s quite enough. He does his best to casually avoid them. He just wants to get through the rest of this practice with at least a little bit of his pride intact. But then Zayn is walking over and he looks equally concerned, but Louis knows it’s not for the same reason that Liam and Niall are. He’s being such a fucking weirdo about it, too. He just keeps giving Louis these strange head nods and Louis can’t figure out if he’s asking him if he’s okay, wanting to talk in private or if he’s just got some sort of nervous tic in his neck. He decides he mostly looks like he wants to talk though and Louis wonders if it’s too late trade this impending conversation for Liam’s motherly staring.  
  
“So.”  
  
Louis pulls his lips into a thin line, “So.”  
  
Zayn glances to the edge of the pitch at a small group of players, mostly the new ones. Louis would have to be completely dense to not know who he’s watching specifically.  
  
“Well, he looked proper pissed.”  
  
“Who did?”  
  
Zayn levels him with a dubious look, “Come off it, you know who I’m talking about.”  
  
Louis sighs without meaning to. “Oh. Yeah, I don’t- I don’t know what his problem is.”

He allows himself a glance in Harry’s direction, expecting to be faced with an angry expression again, but the younger boy seems intent on acting like he doesn’t even exist. If Louis has to think about it, which he’s totally  _not_ , he isn’t sure which is worse.  
  
“Don’t care either,” he tacks on. It’s mostly for his own benefit, but somehow it does nothing to quell his irritation.  
  
Yeah, Harry was obviously angry, and maybe he had a right to be.  _Okay_ , he definitely had a right to be. But that was  _two years ago_. He'd surely moved past it by now, right? Louis sure as hell had.  
  
“Yeah, mate. Sorry, I was trying to tell you earlier that he was-“  
  
“It’s fine.” Louis doesn’t mean for it to come out as snippy as it does, but fuck it.  
  
Zayn gets that weird crease between his brows. “What happened between you two anyway?”  
  
“Nothing.” He does mean to snap this time.  
  
“Yeah, alright, alright.” Zayn holds his hands up in surrender and glides back over to Liam, leaving Louis alone on the side of the field.  
  
Before he can appreciate a few seconds alone his coach is blowing his whistle to indicate the start of drills. Louis takes a deep breath and readies himself. No way is he going to struggle in front of his teammates at drills, especially not Harry.  
  
They break up into small groups but Louis veers off until he’s mostly by himself, focusing on only the ball at his feet as he practices his shielding and dribbling. He eventually lets Niall toss him a few headers and traps. Soon he begins to loosen up, muscle memory taking over and he suddenly doesn’t feel so rusty anymore, heart beating in time with the ball. He actually smiles as he manages to chip a few just out of Niall’s diving reach.  
  
“Tomlinson! Come here a minute.”  
  
Louis’ smile falters as Coach Cowell summons him to the sidelines. Niall shoots him a mock salute before turning his attention to Zayn and Liam who are practicing a few meters over. When Louis makes it over to his coach he’s met with a relaxed arm across his shoulders, and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in.  
  
“Is there are a problem, Coach?”  
  
“Not at all, not at all. It’s good to have you back, by the way. Medic told me your knee is doing well. It looks like it’s doing well.”  
  
Louis nods tightly. He doesn’t know if they’re all just saying that to mollify him or what. He certainly doesn’t feel like he’s giving his best out there at any rate.  
  
“Yeah, it feels good. I really missed all this. Seven weeks is too long to be away.”  
  
His coach only hums in agreement, eyes trained toward the field full of his drilling players. “So what do you think of our new recruits?”  
  
Louis wonders if someone slipped Harry-magnets into his eyeballs when he wasn’t paying attention because they immediately snap to the boy. When Louis first saw him, by now only an hour or so ago, he immediately saw the sixteen year old boy from his past. But now that his insides aren’t seizing up in abject disbelief and panic, he sees the changes. He’s taller (most likely taller than he is now, but it’s not like he’s going to get within five feet of him to confirm it). He’s slenderer too - all sinewy, defined muscle, the roundness of his features all but gone. Even his curls are different, now more wavy and blown out save for around his ears.  
  
He seems to have gotten better at football as well by the looks of things. Louis’ eyes are fixed on him as he does some complicated dribbling, the ball flowing through his legs as his body twists and turns effortlessly. Another player goes to steal but Harry shields brilliantly, foot gliding over the top and sides of the ball, beating his opponent with ease.  
  
"He certainly knows how to handle a ball, doesn't he?"  
  
Louis almost chokes. “Um, yeah. Good- Nice control… They all look pretty promising.”  
  
His coach throws a single look his way, smiling before his eyes snap back to the field, or more specifically, to Harry.  
  
“I’m thinking about starting him at forward soon. What do you think?”  
  
Louis’ fingers dig into his biceps as he crosses his arms, “What about Brewer?”  
  
“Busted his ankle up last week. A reliable replacement can never hurt.”  
  
The words sting even though they’re in no way directed at Louis. Brewer is a 3rd year in the 2nd Team at Essex, like he is, and yeah, Harry looks pretty impressive from where he’s standing but he can’t ignore the flood of sympathy he feels for his injured teammate. He also tries not to wonder if they thought about a 'reliable replacement' for him when his knee was cracked open two months ago. He wonders if they still think about it now.  
  
“This kid’s got something special,” Cowel continues. “We were lucky to get him.”  
  
He turns to look at Louis pointedly, “He reminds me a lot of you, actually.”  
  
Louis’ mouth parts. He doesn’t really know what to say to that.  
  
“But I want your input on this. So…”  
  
“ _Yeah_. Yeah, um, I’ll definitely keep an eye out.”  
  
“Good.” And with a single pat in his back, Coach Cowell steps further down the field and the conversation is over.  
  
Louis does his best to collect himself. To say the least, he wasn’t expecting this much internal friction on his first day back to practice. Everything feels rather surreal at the moment, like maybe he’ll blink at any second and wake up in his flat; wake up to a perfectly normal day that actually makes sense. He wipes a hand over his face and goes to return to his former position on the field. He doesn’t make it far before a rogue ball is spinning into this path and the person he’s been trying desperately not to think about all day is jogging over in his direction to retrieve it.  
  
 _This is it_ , he thinks. He braces himself - for another look, maybe even words this time - hateful words? Or maybe a peace offering? He doesn’t know. He sucks in a ragged breath but then there’s just… nothing. Harry simply kicks the ball back to his group and doesn’t even so much as breathe in Louis’ direction. And it’s not even in the way where you’re pointedly trying to avoid looking at someone. It’s honestly as if Louis doesn’t even exist in the same airspace. His mouth goes slack and he doesn’t even try to reign it in, because  _fucking really_?  
  
Louis stomps back toward Niall, Zayn and Liam. Zayn eyes him warily, obviously having watched the exchange (or non-exchange, if they’re being accurate about it).  
  
“Louis…”  
  
“Don’t,” he snaps and breaks into a sprint to chip a ball a few meters in front of him. He almost hates himself for the satisfied feeling that blooms inside as Niall grunts when the ball collides with his chest.  
  
000  
  
Louis’ heart is still hammering when he finally makes it to the locker room. He’s about ten minutes behind everyone else, opting to stay behind and work on his chip shot. Half the team has already showered, changed and gone, including Liam and Zayn who have been walking on eggshells around him since the middle of practice. He sees Niall slipping his bag onto his shoulder in the corner and thinks about walking over but the blonde is still giving him dirty looks over that shot to the chest earlier. But Louis doesn't dwell on it because he actually felt like he regained some of his mojo in the second half of practice. He’s still got it. He just needed to stop over-thinking it. He just needed to stop thinking about everything that simply didn’t matter anymore. Besides, he’ll make it up to Niall when he gets back to their flat (one of those horrid boxed pastries from the convenience shop down the road should do the trick).  
  
Within minutes the locker room is finally cleared and Louis is suddenly very much alone. He can’t say he’s upset about the fact. He’s gotten incredibly used to being alone since his accident, prefers it sometimes even. He pulls his damp jersey over his head and tosses it into the laundry bin before beginning to unlace his cleats, more than ready for a hot shower.  
  
He must have been too busy inside his own head not to have heard the water shut off earlier, because there’s no other way to explain his surprise at the dripping boy now standing a bench down from him.  
  
Louis tilts his head back briefly and closes his eyes, silently asking the universe if there are any more curve balls it wants to throw his way today. At least the boy’s not naked, a long-sleeved tight under-armor shirt and a pair of loose shorts hanging low on his narrow hips.  
  
Harry actually does look at him this time, clearly startled at having seen Louis of all people sitting there.  
  
Oh. So he’s not actually invisible. Good to know.  
  
Louis doesn’t miss the shift in his expression - that small look of panic forced into nonchalance. And Louis should let him. He should let him get away with it and let this go because it’s probably better for both of them that way.  
  
But he’s feeling brave now.  
  
"You know, it’s funny."  
  
A small intake of breath is all he hears for several seconds and then,  
  
"What's funny?"  
  
Louis’ heart skips a little, not having actually prepared for a response. He can see Harry stiffen though his voice struggles to remain unconcerned.  
  
"You. Being here."  
  
"Scholarship," Harry supplies shortly, slipping a pair of trainers on.  
  
"Yeah, but out of all the universities in England-"  
  
"I didn't know you were here," Harry cuts him off sharply, pulling his bag on and it seems he’s willing his voice to stay even.  
  
"Right."  
  
Harry turns on him then, eyes blistering.  
  
"I know you might not be able to wrap your inflated head around it, but I don't follow your every move. In fact, I don't give a damn what you do. And two years ago, I certainly didn't give a flying fuck where you went."  
  
The statement punches Louis right in the chest and it's unexpected; It's said with such force that he would have undoubtedly believed it had it not been for the tiny flicker of something ghosting over Harry's icy expression - something like disappointment, something he's trying desperately to keep at bay.  
  
He’s moved closer now, his tone softer but still dripping with disdain.  
  
"There are other people in the world, Louis. Everything isn't just about  _you_."  
  
Louis can't find the words to reply with before the other boy is pushing past him and out of the room, the slam of his locker a booming echo in Louis' ears.


	3. Chapter 3

“Louis. Lou, wake up.” 

“WAKE UP YOU MASSIVE TWAT!”

“For fucks sake, _Zayn_. Honestly?”

Louis can vaguely hear the voices of his annoying friends as he’s pulled from sleep. He drags his eyes open to look at his clock. 5:52 a.m.  _Fucking wankers_.

“Lou,  _come on_. Everyone’s waiting downstairs so get your arse up.”

“Mmmrph.” He flips them off, turning his face so he can bury it in his pillow.

“Same to you, fuck stick.”

“ _Zayn_. Not helping.”

“Liam, relax. Let’s just leave him. Queen Louise obviously needs his beauty rest.”

“Fuck you, Malik.” Louis spits, sitting up from his bed, suddenly more awake.

“There's a good lad! Let’s go, get your kit on. We’ve got fresh meat to round up.”

A grin breaks across Louis’ face despite himself. Initiation night. He remembers it well.

In five minutes he’s bounding down the stairwell excitedly with Liam, Zayn and Niall in tow. Standing at the base of the stairs are Sully and Brewer amongst a few more of his teammates. He easily catches the black scrap of cloth that Brewer throws in his direction.

“Do we know who’s staying where?” Louis takes a quick inventory of the complex the football team shares. He hadn’t thought to get the information beforehand but he’s not exactly in charge of this operation, so whatever.

“Does it matter? All I’ve got is the flat numbers. I say we just split up and have at it, yeah?”

A rumble of agreement rolls through the group and then Niall’s tugging on his arm, leading him to the flat number that’s scribbled on the scrap of paper given to him when Louis wasn’t looking.

 **A10** , it reads.

When they finally reach the flat, Niall pushes the front door open without preamble. Louis’ silently hoping they didn’t get dickhead complainers as they knock loudly on the first bedroom door, which is rather pointless since they’re just going to bust through it anyway.

“Oi Oii! Mornin’, sunshine,” Niall crows as he yanks the comforter off of a sleeping boy that Louis doesn’t quite recognize. He thinks he probably should have been paying a little bit more attention to the other new recruits.

 _Oh fuck_ , he thinks. What’s he going to do when he sees Harry again? He honestly hadn’t prepared for it since the locker room incident yesterday.  _Well maybe I won’t have to see him at all_ , he reasons. After all, all the boys would be blindfolded for most of the time, and Louis could just conveniently disappear when they weren’t, right? Yeah, okay, that’s a plan.

He watches Niall blindfold the boy after first allowing him to slip into a pair of trainers.

“Up you go.” He drags the kid up by the shirt collar and maneuvers him out of the room, Louis following behind as they move as a group to the closed door on the other side of the flat.

When Niall opens the second door Louis’ heart flips violently in his chest. From his spot behind Niall, he can make out a sleepy-eyed, but smiling Harry. He's sitting up in his bed, fully dressed with his trainers already laced up. He must have been tipped off by all the commotion.

“Well, someone’s eager.” Niall laughs and Harry gives a small smile in return, shrugging.

Louis tries not to notice when Harry’s smile drops completely off his face as soon as he becomes aware of Louis in the doorway.

“Here,” Niall throws him the other blindfold. “Tie him up.”

Louis groans inwardly when Harry’s breath hitches slightly, and he kind of just wants to sink into the nearest wall and disappear. It’s not like he can say no though, because then he’d have to explain himself. And he doesn’t need Niall asking questions right now (Zayn’s already doing enough of that), especially ones that he doesn’t really have all the answers to.

He steps closer to the boy on the bed, trying to ignore the way that Harry is surveying his every move, distrust heavy in his eyes. Louis gulps as he comes to stand in front of him, blindfold limp over his fingers. He’s frozen in place as he stands between Harry’s thighs, and the younger boy is now staring straight ahead, concentrating his gaze somewhere around Louis’ chest, deliberately not making eye contact. Suddenly, Louis inexplicably wants him to,  _needs him to_. Just once.

“Would you hurry the fuck up?” Niall exclaims, glancing down at his watch to check the time.

Louis coughs. _Shit_. _Okay_. He hastily pushes the cloth against Harry’s now-closed eyes, wrapping it around his head and trying his hardest to ignore the way the soft hair grazes his wrists. He ties a loose knot at the back of his head. Harry seems to be breathing a little more heavily now, but maybe Louis is only imagining it.

“Alright, um, yeah, s- stand up,” he stammers, positive that Niall, and especially Harry, must think he sounds like an incredible madcap. Harry doesn’t indicate anything of the sort though. He only calmly stands, wobbling slightly when he begins walking and Louis reaches for his lower back on instinct to steady him.

Harry’s muscles seem to tense a little and Louis looks down to where is fingers are curled against the small of his back. The fact that’s it’s the first time they’ve really touched in two years isn’t lost on him, even as Niall is rushing them out of the flat with mumbled curses about being late to the car.

Louis tries to keep the rest of his body as far from Harry as he can while still being able to guide the boy across the parking lot, ignoring the way Niall is practically hauling his own 1st year against his side. Suddenly, he wishes Zayn were here so at least someone would take some mercy on him, even though Zayn doesn’t even understand all the reasons why he needs it.

Louis can’t let go quickly enough when they finally reach the large SUV they’re using for transport. Everyone else is already packed in the car, Louis and Niall the last to show.

“Come on lads, get a move on! Slower than my aunt Miriam, you are,” Zayn barks from the passenger seat and Louis sees Liam swat at his arm from the driver’s seat. Niall pushes Harry and boy-Louis-still-doesn’t-recognize into the back and then they’re climbing in and the car is off.

“Where are you taking us?” One of the braver ones asks after about five minutes of driving.

Louis smirks.

“Naked mile,” Zayn whispers once, and then someone else joins him, followed by another.

“ _Na_ ked mile!  _Na_ ked mile!  _Na_ ked mile!  _Na_ ked mile!” They chant, gradually getting louder and louder and Louis finally joins them, smile wide across his face. He forces himself not to turn around and look at the blindfolded boys (one in particular), no matter how much he wants to see their reactions.

The car finally stops a few minutes later on an abandoned road that Louis is all too familiar with. They shuffle the 1st years out one-by-one and herd them together in the middle of the dark street.

Liam shuts the ignition off and gets out of the car to join them, “Okay, you can take your blindfolds off now, lads.”

The boys remove their cloths, some more quickly than others, to take in their new surroundings. As expected, they all look confused, and some even look a little scared as they survey the gloomy road they’re stranded on.

“Right. Now, kits off.” Zayn orders.

“ _What_?” One of them squawks.

“You heard me.”

“But, why are we…?”

“What part of  _naked mile_  did you not understand?”

Half of the new boys look at each other, shrug, and begin shucking their clothes off; the other half still look unsure. Louis’ eyes find Harry without meaning to. He tries to look away, honestly he does, but his eyes are stuck on the boy as he peels his shirt off slowly to reveal his lightly muscled chest.  _Still all torso_ , Louis notices. He smirks before catching himself and biting into his cheek. He forces himself to look away as Harry’s hands hook into the waistband of his joggers to pull them off.

Louis chooses instead to train his eyes on Zayn, who’s now giving instructions to the newly naked boys.

“Okay, lads. As part of your initiation, and we’ve all had to do it so don’t be a bitch about it, you have to make it back to the complex before dawn.”

“But,” one of them speaks, voice unsure. “We don’t know where we are? What road are we even on?”

Zayn smile is serpentine. “Here’s a map for you.”

One of the boys takes it quickly, surveying the paper which has a very crudely drawn map scribbled on it. 

He frowns. “Is this crayon? Did you draw this?”

Zayn only shrugs, nonplussed, while Louis helps gather the clothing from the ground and piles back into the car with his teammates as they prepare to leave.

“Oh, and sunrise is in thirty minutes, boys,” Niall quips out the back window.

“Wait, what? What if somebody sees us?”

“Make sure they don’t.” Zayn answers, closing the car door once he’s inside.

“But? How…”

“Run fast.”

And with that, Liam is pulling back onto the main road, cloud of dust and a group of naked, mystified boys in their wake.

000

“Should be coming ‘round soon, lads.”

Niall studies his watch from where he’s perched on the hood of the car. They’d been waiting back at the complex for a good twenty minutes now.

“You better hope they do. Coach finds out and we’re screwed. He seemed pretty serious about initiation stuff this year, don’t you think?”

“Li, would you relax?” Zayn pipes in from his spot in the front seat, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. “He knows what goes on. Besides, they’re getting royal treatment compared to what we got, if you remember. Plus, did you see the look on their faces? Completely worth it either way.”

Liam rolls his eyes and walks over to pluck Zayn’s cigarette from his mouth and toss it to the ground.

“Oi! That was my last one, you wanker!”

Before Liam can begin his lecture on the dangers of smoking and the rising statistics of lung cancer, Niall shouts from the hood of the car.

“Fresh meat comin’ round the bend.”

Louis sits up from where he’s lying across the back seat, legs dangling out of the open door.

“Looks like we’ve got a lone wolf.”

Louis cranes his neck around the vehicle to see for himself.

“Looks like Styles from here, what do you think, Li?” Niall asks. Liam squints his eyes and cocks his head, considering.

Louis can easily recognize Harry on the horizon, but doesn’t confirm anything to his friends. Harry’s jog has now slowed to a walk and his hands have gone to cover himself as he catches sight of them waiting on him in the distance.

“Well, it looks like we have a winner!” Zayn announces as Harry closes in. Harry only smiles sheepishly as he slows to a stop in front of them, awkwardly shuffling from one foot to the other, trying to cover himself as best he can. Louis stares purposely at the ground.

“Oh. I suppose you’d like your clothes back, then?” Liam asks.

“Suppose so. Unless you’ve got something else planned for me.”

Louis bites off a noise coming from his throat.

Niall only laughs, “Cheeky. I like it. Tommo!”

Louis’ head snaps up.

“Open the back, would you?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Lazy sod,” he mumbles, but hops from the car to walk around the back and pull the door open where all the 1st year's clothes have been thrown.

He lets a breath go, concentrating on the large pile in front of him.

“I had the white under-“

Louis nearly jumps out of his skin, turning quickly to see Harry standing behind him, mouth still open in mid-speech.

“I- I know. I remember,” he interrupts lamely, and turns back around so quickly that he misses Harry’s confused look. He pulls his shorts from the pile first and hands them back wordlessly.

“So. That was fast,” he says conversationally. “You were the clear Sea Biscuit in that race, weren’t you?”

Harry laughs but quickly covers his mouth, looks almost disappointed in himself. Louis frowns.

Harry clears his throat, “Um. Yeah. Looks like it.”

“I mean,” Louis continues conversationally, not entirely sure why he can’t control his mouth at the moment, “’Course you are. Got legs like a bloody colt. You always have.”

Harry’s mouth twitches and his eyebrows draw together. Louis blushes, wishing he never would have opened his mouth. He pulls Harry’s long-sleeved shirt from the pile and hands it to him and fails to not watch the boy drag it on over his broad shoulders.

“Do you- Do you remember that time, when we were kids and I convinced you I could outrun you over that bridge at Briar Bank and-“ he pauses to laugh at the memory, “I swore I could beat you but you completely smoked me and I somehow managed to convince you that you had cheated. I made you feel so guilty I think you might have actually cried-“

“Louis.”

“What?”

“Stop.”

Louis’ smile slowly drops. Harry runs his fingers through his hair and exhales loudly, “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing, but just stop.”

Louis sucks in a breath, feels a little like he’s been punched in the stomach.

Harry’s voice seems to harden even more then, “I don’t know how we both ended up here, on the same footie team no less. But… we don’t have to be friends. We don’t have to talk at all. Actually… I'd prefer it that way.”

Louis staggers. He searches Harry’s eyes, studies the resoluteness in them, the way the morning light makes them look even greener than he can ever remember seeing them.

He feels stupid. What was he thinking? They weren’t friends anymore. They never would be again. His lips pull into a straight line.

“Fine.” He slams the back door of the car and turns to leave.

“You know what?” He spins back around, “Actually, it’s  _more than fine_ … It’s not like I ever wanted you here, anyway.”

Hurt immediately blooms in Harry’s eyes but Louis doesn’t care.  _He doesn’t_. He can’t. He can’t be responsible for this boy’s feelings anymore, can’t take the way it makes his insides feel. This was done. It was all done  _two years ago_  and he’ll be damned if it’s going to just start existing again because they’re both stuck on the same football team.

“Finally!” Niall cries, alerting Louis that the rest of the group must be fast-approaching. He turns away from the hurt boy at the back of the car and walks back over to his friends.

“I don’t know how much longer I could have sat here. I’m so hungry I was about to eat Liam.”

Liam looks mock aghast and Zayn grabs him protectively, “Cannibal! You know, we frown upon that here in England.”

Louis rolls his eyes, irritated. He dodges concerned looks from both Liam and Zayn who are still wrapped around each other by the car, as he trudges back to his shared flat with Niall.

“Where’s Tommo going? We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” Niall asks, his voice fading with every step Louis takes.

He doesn’t pick his eyes up from the ground. So he doesn’t see the dark-haired boy leaning against the back of the car, hugging himself, biting his lower lip white as he watches Louis walk away.

Louis slides into his bed as soon as he’s back in his room, burrowing himself beneath the covers. His phone buzzes once from where he accidentally left it on the nightstand. He grabs it and sees a text from Zayn but doesn’t bother opening it. Whatever it is, it can wait. Anxiety bubbles in his chest when he sees two messages from Eleanor directly underneath it. He opens the first one, seeing that it was sent around 3 a.m. earlier that morning when he was still asleep.

It’s just a simple ' ** _you up? x'_**. Louis clicks open the next one and sighs audibly.

**_'i miss you Lou xx'_**

He scrubs a hand down his face. Since when did his life get so bloody complicated? He closes the texts out without responding, turns his phone completely off and forces himself back to sleep.

000

“He’s alive!” Zayn bellows down the hallway. Louis’ tempted to turn heel and walk the other way but figures he can’t keep ignoring his friends forever. Even Niall had barely seen him since the initiation. He was there at the flat all weekend but Louis had spent most of it locked in his room.

“Liam, cancel the search party.”

Liam rolls his eyes but he’s laughing.

Louis offers a forced smile, “Ha ha. Maybe i’m just outgrowing you tossers, ever consider that?”

“You wound me.” Zayn clutches his chest.

“Is everything alright with you?” Liam speaks in hushed tones, genuine concern heavy in his voice. Louis can’t stand it.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he swallows the guilty lump in his throat. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Liam just shrugs but Zayn is apparently feeling extra obnoxious this morning, “Oh, I don’t know, you’ve only been brooding for the past forty-eight hours straight.”

“I’ve not been  _brooding._ ”

“The fuck you haven’t! I feel like I’m in an episode of fucking One Tree Hill here.”

Louis’ eyes narrow at him. “You’re unhinged, has anyone ever told you that?”

Zayn shugs, unbothered. Liam still looks so concerned he might wet himself.

“Li, I’m fine. Really. Just had some things on my mind lately.”

“Is it Eleanor? I mean, you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I just-“

“No. It’s-“ Louis stops himself, considering his options here. “Yeah,” he lies, “Maybe that’s it.”

Liam gives him that sympathetic head tilt he's so good at and seems satisfied with the answer, and Louis feels a weird weight lift from his shoulders. Moments later he sees a flash of blonde hair far down the hallway accompanied with a lilting Irish accent. Louis naturally quickens his pace to meet their friend before stopping dead in his tracks when he sees that Niall isn’t alone. He’s ambling down the hall, head turned in deep conversation, gesturing animatedly with… Harry.

Zayn sees them a second later, “Horan! You-“

“Hey, guys,” Louis interrupts frantically, “Can we- Can we go the long way instead? I need to drop something off in Henderson’s class.”

Liam scrunches his eyebrows. “You don’t even have that class today.”

“You bullshit,” Zayn chuckles, turning to Liam, “He just doesn’t want to see Styles.”

A sick feeling blooms in Louis’ chest. He turns on Zayn in an instant.

“What the hell are you on about?”

“I’m saying you’ve been skittish since he got here, mate. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

“ _I_  haven’t noticed anything,” Liam interrupts, looking apologetic.

Louis sighs. He sees Harry step away from Niall then, taking a detour down another hallway and he feels like he can breathe again for the moment.

"Didn't you two used to be, like, best friends?" Liam’s voice is small, curious. Zayn had obviously told him something, though seemingly not a lot; not that Zayn has much to tell considering he and Louis weren’t really friends until the end of their senior year at Priestly College, despite being on the same footie team for years. He’d only gotten really close to the boy when they found out they were going to be playing for the same university. He didn’t meet Liam and Niall until Essex.

Louis purses his lips, expression pinched, "Not really."

"Bullshit," Zayn scoffs, turning to address Liam, “Those two were practically up each other's arses at Priestly."

Louis bristles, “Do you ever shut the fuck up, Zayn?”

“I’m only sayin’, you might as well of had the lad on an invisible leash. Like a puppy, I’m tellin’ you. And pretty sure you thought the sun shined out of his arse too. At least until-“

Louis can’t stop himself before he grabs Zayn and pushes him roughly.

“Fuck's sake, Louis, this is a new shirt!" he cries, pulling the fabric to smooth it out where Louis had fisted his hands in it.

“Yeah, well maybe you should shut the fuck up about things you know nothing about, yeah, mate? Just fuck off, seriously.”

Zayn’s eyes go wide before narrowing, clearly not having expected a reaction like that. Louis only feels a little bit guilty. It’s not like his friends know the state of flux his brain is in right now, but he’s still pissed that Zayn is acting like an asshole when, while he doesn’t know the details of why he and Harry aren’t friends anymore, he still knows it’s a sore subject so Louis doesn’t exactly feel like apologizing.

“Fucking prick,” Zayn mutters under his breath, turning to walk off in the opposite direction, not even bothering with a goodbye. Liam looks like he wants to follow but doesn’t.

Niall walks up then, smiling brightly, “Eh, lads. Brewer’s throwin’ a kegger this Thursday. We in?”

Liam considers a moment, pulling his phone out to text someone (probably Zayn, Louis thinks), and shrugs before nodding.

"I know you can't be arsed for anything these days, but what about you, Tommo?"

“Don’t know. Might have plans.”

“What plans? Keeping the coach warm while you play FIFA? Come on, mate. We haven’t gotten proper fucked together in ages.”

Liam cocks an eyebrow. Niall scoffs, flipping his hand dismissively, “You know what I mean. So what do you say, Lou, you in?”

Louis sighs, knowing the chances of the boy dropping this are nil-to-none. “Yeah, alright.”

Niall may have done a celebratory fist pump then but Louis’ certainly not going to call attention to it.

“So,” the blonde continues cheerfully, dragging behind Liam and Louis, “What are we having for lunch, boys?"

"Christ, Niall, is food all you can think about?" Louis snips.

The blonde boy looks slightly hurt but mostly confused.

"But, it's lunchtime..."

000

Okay. So maybe it was a little bit his fault. But to be fair, Harry had been provoking him all afternoon. Maybe not with words technically, but Louis knew it wasn’t entirely because of him that they had wound up sprawled on the practice field, grappling against each other on the slick grass as their teammates stood, stunned and trying to pull them apart.

Louis had been fine before practice (well, as fine as he ever was these days), but seeing Harry again after initiation, remembering the cruel words he’d spit at him so easily and the fact that he was seemingly back to ignoring his existence caused something to churn uncomfortably in Louis’ gut. He had been angry. How was Harry just going to ignore his  _captain_? It was…disrespectful, is what it was. Every time Harry had skillfully broken passed a defender or successfully dribbled the ball around his opponent with little to no effort, Louis’ blood had boiled. He could’ve sworn he saw a small smirk not quite playing on Harry’s lips whenever he bettered someone else, too.

Then it had been time for them to face off and Harry had a harder time getting passed Louis, but had eventually managed to knock his way through, but not before their knees slammed together and Harry had pulled Louis to the ground by his jersey. One could have argued that they had both been a little bit to blame for that, but Louis still maintained that it had been Harry’s fault.

Harry had looked like he was about to maybe apologize, but hadn’t had the chance to before he himself had landed on the ground, tripped by LouisAll Louis really remembers after that was wet grass soaking into his shirt, the loss of air as Harry’s bony elbow connected with his abdomen, and several sets of rough hands grabbing at him, pulling him away from the other boy. Oh, and the wide, disbelieving eyes of his assistant coach, Paul.

Unfortunately, coach Cowell ran a tight ship at Essex. There was zero tolerance for fighting on the field and if you did, depending on how severe, well, a plethora of things could happen to you. Apparently their offense had been tame enough to only earn them laundry duty for the rest of the afternoon.

Harry is none too pleased about it, of course. He refuses to even look in Louis’ direction as they sort out the filthy practice jerseys at the station where they’ve been forced to serve out their punishment. “Start washing. Don’t leave until I come back,” Paul had said, sounding more disappointed than angry, which only made Louis feel that much worse.

It’s just. He can’t seem to control himself around Harry. And he hates it. It’s a feeling he doesn’t recognize or know what to do with. Before, when they had been friends it wasn’t like this. Maybe, towards the end… But no. Louis shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about that. He’d spent the last two years trying to wipe it from his memory. All he knows is before Harry had suddenly come spinning back into his life like a hurricane Louis had been  _fine_. Now, he just felt constantly angry, like he was about to burst out of his own skin all the time. He’d tried being nice, hadn’t he? But Harry hadn’t wanted any of it.  _Harry_  was the reason things were the way they were. It wasn’t Louis’ fault. He’d at least tried to put the past behind them. He’d done all he could.

Harry is quick with his pile of unwashed clothes, separating and sorting easily. He doesn’t speak to Louis or even look at him but it’s not exactly unexpected so Louis just tries his best to concentrate on his own pile and wait this out. The small laundry room is quiet, the gentle hum of the washer and dryer the only decipherable noises.

Louis’ heart jumps when the shrill ring of a mobile phone breaks through the silence. He steals a glance at Harry, who’s smiling as he answers.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Harry drops the jersey he was holding to step into the tiny hallway a couple of meters away. Louis can still see and hear him though if he concentrates. It’s not like he cares, really, he’s just bored and Harry’s not exactly going out of his way to be discreet.

“Yeah. Sorry, I don’t think I can tonight actually. I got held up after practice…No, I’m fine. Just…something stupid, yeah.” Louis rolls his eyes.

“You know I want to…” Louis tries to ignore the sudden rush of unwelcome warmth in his stomach. It’s just…the  _tone_  of Harry’s voice and was he…blushing?

“No, I miss you, too….Yeah.”

Louis’ hands grip the jersey he’s holding even tighter. He turns to face the boy on the phone and the words leave his mouth before he can think, “You going to get back to work anytime soon? Some of us have things to do.”

Harry, who’s biting the back of his finger, freezes as his eyes snap to Louis. He clutches the mobile tightly in his hand, eyes practically simmering. “Hey, let me call you back. Yeah…okay, bye.”

Louis swallows. Not because he’s nervous; he’s just not used to Harry actually standing up for himself around him. He guesses a lot has really changed in two years.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as rude as you before. Something you might want to work on, yeah?”

Louis almost smirks.  _Yep_ , definitely feistier than he remembers.

He rolls his eyes, “Please. I’m not going to stand here being a glorified janitor while you take a personal.”

“You were on the phone a half-hour ago with Zayn.”

“Yeah, well. That was business, not pleasure.” He flips his hand dismissively to squelch the pinch in his stomach as the implication of his words are confirmed by the blush creeping up on Harry’s cheeks.

“And why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he clips, eyes turning back to his pile of clothes, hands shaking slightly. He hears Harry scoff.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Why would you? You never wanted me here in the first place. I remember now.”

Louis bites his tongue and his hands fumble to grab a pile of sorted jerseys for wash. He turns to walk toward the machines and before he can stop himself, purposely drives his shoulder against Harry’s.

The other boy grunts and Louis doesn’t have half a second to plan his next move before Harry is grabbing his shoulders roughly and pushing him against the nearest wall. Louis drops the clothes as Harry leans in to speak directly in his ear, hot and dripping with disdain, just low enough for Louis alone to hear.

“You think I  _want_  to be here? Trust me, if I would have known you were here, I wouldn’t have just walked the other way, I would have  _run_.”

Something surges inside Louis’ chest then. Harry’s stronger than he was before but Louis is still older. He grips Harry’s shoulders roughly and pushes all of his weight forward until he’s got the boy pinned beneath him against the opposite wall. They’re both breathing heavily, eyes glassy and Louis feels his whole body prickle with heat, the feel of Harry’s skin and his smell invading every part of Louis’ body. It suddenly feels like coming home but wanting to run away all at once.

Louis grunts once, overwhelmed with frustration. His hands fist into the front of Harry’s shirt, yanking him forward and then back so his body slams against the wall once more and Harry just lets him, mouth slack and eyes clouded with confusion and something else and he looks like he’s drowning as much as Louis is. Their foreheads graze as they sway together, bodies tense and rigid. Louis’ open mouth grazes the hot skin of Harry’s cheek then, just breathing against him steadily.

He can vaguely feel Harry’s hands gripping into his shirt at his sides, clasping and un-clasping, seemingly not quite sure if they want to push away or pull in. Louis’ mouth almost drags against his cheek, eyes screwed shut and he feels like he’s dangling on the edge of something, waiting to fall. One of his hands moves to grasp the side of Harry’s face, thumb pressed into his jaw. He feels the tugging of Harry’s fists in his shirt and hears his swift intake of breath.

That’s also when he hears the metal door swing open down the hall.

It feels like someone has thrown ice water over him and he’s pushing himself off of Harry in an instant, so forcefully that his back almost collides with the far wall. Louis has to avert his eyes then, because he can’t look at Harry’s face right now, a mixture of confusion, hurt, anger and something else, always something else that Louis can’t quite understand.

“You boys are free to go.” Paul taps on the inside of the door before turning to leave again as quickly as he came. His voice is like a cold shower, pulling Louis from the cottony place his brain has wondered to. Harry remains frozen though, eyes never leaving him as Louis pushes himself off the wall, grabs his things and practically runs from the small room, away from Harry as fast as he can.

As soon as he makes it to his car, he collapses into the front seat and leans his head against the wheel, trying desperately to steady his breathing. His heart is still pounding as he pulls his mobile from his pocket and quickly finds the read text message from Eleanor from several days ago, hitting the reply button desperately.

**_'party at brewers this thursday. we should go. x'_**

He snaps his phone closed, shuts his eyes, and waits.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The POV in this story will sometimes shift to Harry, though the majority will be told from Louis'.

 Harry can’t remember when he met Louis exactly. He might have been eleven, he thinks, and Louis thirteen. His older sister, Gemma was in Louis’ year at school and whatever year she started babysitting for Lottie Tomlinson was the year Harry first laid eyes on Louis.

Their mums had been friends in that distant  _oh-our-children-are-in-the-same-year-and-I-sometimes-see-you-at-pta_  sort of way. It wasn’t until Gemma had been babysitting for the Tomlinsons for a good several months that Harry had been forced over there one evening when both their parents had been tied up with something or other.

That’s the first time he’d ever seen Louis Tomlinson, all loud and brash and full of an impossible energy that Harry couldn’t quite keep up with. Harry had played video games with the thirteen year old on the couch all night long. Louis hadn't spoken to him all that much, instead being obnoxiously loud to everyone in general (probably trying to get the attention of his older sister, he thinks, who had only rolled her eyes in annoyance), but Harry hadn’t minded.

And, the thing is, they weren't really friends at all until they were. If Harry could recall how it happened he’d probably write it down but he honestly can’t pinpoint any moment in time that marked the transition from Louis being the boy whose little sister Gemma sometimes babysat for to Louis being his best friend. It had happened so gradually, naturally, that it’s hard for Harry to even remember a time where Louis wasn’t present in his life in some way.

He thinks, even now, Louis is still the first person he ever truly loved outside of his mother and sister.

 _Even now_ , years after everything went to shit.

000

Harry wonders what had been going through his mind when he had agreed to go to this keg party. It’s just, the Irish goalkeeper, Niall, had been really nice to him. In fact, he’d been the most welcoming to Harry since he came to Essex. They shared a class together and the boy always went out of his way to talk to Harry. And he thinks he had wanted to go to the party at the time, Niall’s excitement over it infectious, but now, especially after what happened in the laundry room the other day, it’s sort of the last thing Harry wants to deal with.

He doesn’t know if he can see Louis right now, is the thing.  That pain and disappointment that he spent two years burying, closing off into a neat little container; he feels it cracking open a little more each time he sees Louis. He wants to laugh at how weak he actually is. He thought he was over all of this, had finally come to terms with what happened. He felt stronger, like he’d actually accomplished something these past two years, become someone that wasn’t so dependent on another person for happiness. He even felt strong the day he first saw Louis again after two years. It had been a surprise, seeing him, and there was still massive resentment there, but that fear of falling apart  _wasn’t_. And Harry had been so afraid that if he ever did see Louis again that it would be.

Now, he’s not so sure he’s actually accomplished anything. Because all it took was a look, a few words, his back against a wall and a thumb pressed into his jaw to make him question everything. But how? How did he get here? With a boy so far, so deep into his skin and bones that he’ll always be a part of him, always have the power to turn him inside out no matter how far he runs? He’s angry. He’s so angry all the time now and he hates it. He’s playing football at one of the top universities in England and he should love everything about his life right now, but instead he’s moving backwards.

 

_**Holmes Chapel, Cheshire, England | Two years earlier** _

It’s on a brilliant assist by Louis that they score in the last seconds of the game and win. The crowd erupts into cheers and Harry can’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears. His eyes don’t leave Louis as the boy slides across the grass, hair everywhere, wailing at the top of his lungs in excitement. He can’t make it to his best friend through all the people that have gathered on the field in celebration; He can only watch him as he’s pulled into the giant team huddle along with Harry.

“Fucking right, lads!” Zayn Malik, their winger shouts, “Celebration at mine tonight. All you shits better be there!”

 _"Such a prick"_ , Louis mouths to Harry across the huddle, but he’s smiling so big all Harry can do is stand there and be blinded by it.

When they get to Zayn’s, despite the raven-haired boy’s attempts to get Louis to do a keg stand, they almost immediately break away from their drunken teammates.

“I need to tell you something,” Louis whispers against his ear, “Come with me?”

Harry only nods, heart racing for some reason. He lets Louis pull him into an empty bedroom in the back of the house. It’s mostly dark, the only source of light a tiny nightlight plugged into the wall in the corner of the room, casting a dim yellow light across their faces. Louis shuts the door and turns to face Harry with the widest smile he’s ever seen.

“ _Hazza_ ”

Harry laughs. “Lou…you’re freaking me out. What's going on?"

“Harry. There was a scout tonight. At the game.”

“What?”

“And he asked coach about me. Haz, can you believe it? I might get to play football at Uni. Harry, can you fucking  _believe this_?” He grabs Harry’s shoulders tightly so they’re facing, only inches apart. He laughs, eyes dancing across Harry’s face while Harry feels like a bomb has gone off in his chest, suddenly flooded with so many different emotions he doesn’t know how to react. Louis notices.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, though he’s still smiling, “Are you not happy for me?”

“What?” he sputters, “Yes! Of course I am. This is brilliant!” Harry laughs, smile big and white. “Just…all this. S’lot to take in. I don’t know what I’ll do without you here.”

Louis pauses, smile dropping a tiny bit, replaced with an expression that’s more resolute. His voice lowers, “You’ll…you’ll come with me. When you graduate.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the universe.  _Of course, why would you even need to ask such a thing?_

Harry laughs lowly, “Lou. Come on, I’m not as good you.”

“The fuck you aren’t.  _You will be_. No, I’m serious,” He grips Harry’s face between his hands, sounds more certain than Harry thinks he’s ever heard him, “It’s going to be you and me, Haz. You’ll wind up wherever I am, I know it. You have to. And before then,” he’s laughing again, “you’ll come visit me in my shitty little dorm room and you’ll get to know the whole team anyway and they’ll see how good you are and it will be perfect.”

Harry laughs, beams at him, “Yeah?”

Louis nods, fingers pressing into Harry’s cheeks. Harry raises his hand to grip the back of Louis’ neck.

Harry blinks at him and sighs, watery, “What am I gonna do without you, you tosser?”

Louis smile falters the tiniest bit, “I haven’t gone anywhere yet, Hazza. I don’t even know if-“

“You will,” Harry interrupts, voice fallen to just above a whisper, “There’s no way they couldn’t want you...”

Louis’ breath hitches and his fingers press hard into the sides of Harry’s head, thumbs absently stroking his cheekbones. Neither boy moves, just hovering, breathing each other in. Louis’ eyes flicker down to his mouth and it’s all the incentive Harry needs to lean forward and close the distance between them.

The kiss is gentle, just a meeting of lips, but Harry’s heart threatens to beat right out of his chest. Its not like he planned on doing this. At all. But now it’s happened and he can’t take it back.

Louis stiffens slightly beneath his mouth, but only for a few seconds before he relaxes, hands loosening on Harry’s head and then tightening again, pulling him in closer. A small gasp falls from Harry’s lips when he feels the gentle slide of his best friend’s tongue against his own. It’s tentative, unsure, but it makes Harry’s heart rabbit in his chest. It’s the first time he’s ever been kissed like this in his life and all he can do is just hold on tighter to Louis, take everything the boy wants to give him and try not to think about the implications, try not to wonder if this is something that’s been building for both of them and not just for him. Harry’s teeth sink into Louis’ bottom lip and he hears Louis keen gently, his eyes fluttering open.

And then somewhere in the house there’s a crash loud enough to jar them apart. Louis steps away from him quickly, leaves him wobbling on weak knees, every sense unfocused. Harry smiles unsurely at him. Louis just stares blankly back at him, hand covering his own mouth.  His expression is unreadable but Harry’s mind is racing too quickly to try and understand what it means.

“I should go.” Louis pushes his hands through his hair. He looks…almost panicked.

“Wait, what?”

“I- I need to go. I told my mum I wouldn’t be long. We’ve got a thing in the morning. Sorry. I- I’ll call you, Haz. Sorry…” It’s all a jumbled mess of words that Harry can barely make sense of before Louis is pushing past him and out of the door.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, shocked and confused before he finally leaves the party he never wanted to go to in the first place.

What had just happened? 

 

_**Essex, England | Present day**_

Brewer was throwing the party at his older brother’s house further on the outskirts of the city. Harry catches a ride with some of the other new players that had been invited and after about a ten minute drive, they’re parked in the grass in front of a somewhat large, older looking house. Harry knows they’re in the right place; He can hear the music blaring from all the way in the car and the front door is propped open with people milling about the porch, smoking and laughing.

“Eh, lads, who’s designated?” His flatmate, Josh, asks from the driver’s seat.

“Well, since you’re already driving…” Another boy, Matt, starts.

“Oi, fuck off. I’m getting pissed tonight.”

“I can do it,” Harry says, “S’not a big deal.”

“You sure, Styles?” Harry glances at the open door of the house, just watching.

“Yeah.” He fixes his beanie and steps out of the car before anyone can say anything else. It’s probably best that he doesn’t drink tonight anyway.

“Ooooh, it’s  _Styles_! He’s got curls for  _miles_ , on the field he’s  _vile_  and-“

“Sully! You are fuckin’ embarrassin’, mate. Honestly.”

“You’re just upset I don’t do your rap anymore, Malik!”

“Don’t think so. I paid you to stop, remember?" 

Harry can’t help but laugh from his spot in the doorway, listening to the exchange. Sully looks pissed right now, Zayn not too far behind him. The raven-haired boy he was never quite friends with in college eyes him in the doorway before lifting his drink and nodding his head in a silent greeting. Harry nods back once in response. He sees Liam Payne directly behind Zayn, hand gripping the back of the boy’s neck while he chats with Niall a few feet off. He’s thankful that Niall sees him then, because he’s not too sure where he was planning on going from here.

“Oi, you made it! Here,” The Irish boy passes him a full cup of what he assumes is some kind of alcohol.

Harry waves him off. “Can’t mate, I’m driving.”

“Bollocks! How’d you get tricked into that one?”

Harry laughs, “I offered.”

“What?” Niall ducks his head closer, seemingly not being able to hear him over the loud thump of the music.

“Nevermind!” Harry mouths to him and Niall just shrugs before walking them through the foyer to the open area of the living room. Harry dodges a small group of drunk giggling girls, hugging the wall as he follows behind Niall.

“You haven’t met Brewer’s brother yet, have you?”

Harry shakes his head, “Haven’t really met much of anyone.”

“Right, right. Well, Jake is aces. Since we can’t have alcohol on campus, he lets us use his place all throughout the semester. Really nice bloke.” Harry nods in understanding as his eyes fall on all the people grinding up against each other in front of the couch.

“Oi, take that upstairs, you animal!”

Harry’s eyes follow Niall’s line of sight and then wishes with everything in him that he hadn’t. In that instant, he wishes he could press re-wind, walk backwards through the front door, back to the car and all the way back to his flat. Because there’s Louis, the first Harry’s seen of him since their last encounter in the laundry room when the boy had him pressed against the wall, and he himself is pressed against a wall with a slight, petite girl sucking on his mouth.

Louis’ head shoots up when he hears Niall’s voice, prompting the girl to move her mouth to his neck. He looks at Niall for only a second before his eyes fall on Harry. Louis’ glassy eyes widen slightly before they settle again. He promptly digs his hands into the girls waist then, pulls her closer and Harry scoffs, a disdainful smile breaking over his face because in all honesty, he wants to laugh because  _this is not his life_. It can’t be. Louis continues to grind with the girl in his arms, though his eyes don’t seem to leave Harry for more than a moment at a time.

“You know, on second thought...” Harry murmurs, grabbing the full drink that he’d declined earlier from Niall’s hand, “Bottoms up.” He throws his head back and chugs the strong contents of the cup without caring what’s in it.

“Eh! That’s the spirit, Styles!”

He crushes the cup in his hand when he’s done, willing the fiery drink to go down his throat without coming back up. He can’t help but look at Louis then, whose brows are creased in something that resembles concern. He’s no longer holding onto the girl. Harry rolls his eyes and heads toward the kitchen because he needs to get away from here and he  _definitely_  needs more alcohol. He grabs the first thing he sees, which happens to be a half-full bottle of cheap vodka. He screws the cap off and brings it to his lips, wincing at the burn of it in his mouth. He’s not usually much of a drinker, and despite the fact that the louder, more illogical part of his brain is just begging for a blackout, there’s still a small part of him that realizes what a bad idea this is.

Apparently, someone else does, too. Before he can even take down three swigs, someone is pulling the bottle away from his mouth hastily. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Louis looks half-angry, half-upset as he pushes the bottle down the counter out of Harry’s reach.

Harry wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “It’s a party mate, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Louis’ lips draw into a thin line. “Maybe you should just slow down, yeah?”

“Why? Why do you care what I do? Besides, don’t you have a bird to fuck?”

Louis winces but doesn’t say anything. Harry smirks and nods, giving him a mock salute as he turns heel to leave. He’s not prepared for Louis’ hand gripping into his arm, pulling him back around roughly.

“Get off me,” he says lowly, but Louis ignores him, now dragging him toward the staircase.

“I need to talk to you.”

Harry wants to fight but the situation feels so familiar that his mind floats back before he can stop it.

 

_**Holmes Chapel, Cheshire, England | Two years earlier**_

Louis had definitely been ignoring him. Harry couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t anymore. Ever since their kiss in the bedroom at Zayn’s Louis hadn’t been the same. Harry had foolishly thought that everything might go back to normal after that. Or maybe change into something…better. But he’d been wrong. It’s just…Louis had promised to call him, but he hadn’t. And he’d avoided him at school completely, even at football practice.

In fact, the dinner at Harry’s parents house that had been planned for weeks that neither one of them could get out of was the first time he’d been able to properly speak to his best friend in over a week. He’d somewhat prepared himself for Louis’ standoffishness at that point. But when Louis walked through the door with his family, carrying a steaming bowl of some kind of soup, he’d smiled at Harry and pulled him into a half-hug and acted like nothing was wrong at all.

“Hey, Hazza. You catch the Man U game last night?”

Harry had eyed him wearily, confused. “Um, yeah. Yeah, Giggsy was beastly.”

And Louis had laughed at that and agreed. The entire night he treated Harry no differently than he always had, save for the last two weeks. It’s almost as if someone had erased that night from his memory, or his brain was simply skipping over it. Harry should have just left it alone. But he couldn’t now, he didn’t want to.

“Lou.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I show you something? Upstairs?” He bites his lip.

Louis eyes him warily, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes but nods, “Yeah, alright.”

As soon as they’re in his bedroom, Harry shuts the door and moves to face Louis.

“So,” Louis starts, suddenly looking nervous, “What did you want to show me?”

Harry doesn’t answer him. He only steps forward to shorten the distance between them. His hand moves to rest on Louis’ wrist, tugging gently on it. Louis’ eyes snap to the point of contact, breathing a little heavier now.

“Harry…”

Harry moves into him then, cupping his face gently and bringing their lips together just like last time, but now more desperate and sure. Louis’ whole body freezes and Harry feels hands roughly pushing at his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Louis spits, wiping at his mouth.

“I…”

“Look I’m not… I’m not  _gay_ , okay?”

Harry feels like he might throw up. “I’m not- Neither am I. Louis…”

“But you kissed me. At Zayn’s.” He says accusingly.

Harry’s eyes narrow. “Yeah… _and you kissed me back_.” Because there’s no way he misread that.

“No.” Louis shakes his head, “No, I didn’t, I-. You just imagined it, okay?”

“ _What_?”

“You just, you have this weird crush on me or something. I can feel it. It’s weird, alright? We’re just friends. _That’s all_. I don’t want anything else.”

“Louis- are you? Why-” He’s sputtering now, feels like he’s drowning, “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything!" Louis shouts, "Why can’t you just let us be normal for once?”

“Normal?”

“Yeah, normal. Harry,  _normal_  friends don’t- don’t sleep in the same bed or- or share the same plate at breakfast. Normal friends don’t spend  _all_  their time together and ignore everyone else. How many friends do you have outside of me, Harry, huh? How many days have we spent apart for the last  _five_  fucking years? It’s not  _normal_ , okay?”

A beat passes.

“Well, so what?” Harry snaps, eyes wet, “So what if we’re not normal? I don’t want to be normal, I just want to be with-“

“No! No, okay?” He strides in close, close enough so he knows Harry can hear, that it will hurt enough to break him, “Why can’t you just accept that _I don’t want you_?”

Louis’ eyes are wild and panicked and he’s trembling uncontrollably. Harry’s mouth snaps shut as the words hit him, destroy him. He can feel the tears running down his cheeks and hates how Louis doesn’t even care.

“ _Fuck you_.”

Louis’ eyes widen for a second and he sucks in a harsh breath before he bites his lip hard and runs from the room.

And then it’s just…over. He’s gone. They’re not best friends anymore. They’re nothing and it’s like the last five years of his life have been years that belong to someone else, a giant lie. Louis doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the school year. He doesn’t look at him, doesn’t acknowledge him. And he’s taken up with a new set of friends that similarly ignore Harry’s existence. He goes to prom with a blonde girl Harry’s never noticed before and at graduation, he doesn’t even glance Harry’s way. Harry doesn’t know he’s gone until his mum, Jay, pops over for breakfast one morning and Harry hears her talking with his mum over a kettle of tea.

“He left this morning, yeah. It’s so sad, my baby leaving the nest. I’m so proud of him though….”

Her voice fades into the distance as Harry walks back to his room, throws himself on the bed and sleeps for two days straight.

 

**Essex, England | Present day**

Louis pushes Harry on the bed roughly.

“Stop pushing me. I’m not drunk.” 

 _Not yet at least_ , Louis thinks, sure that the last several ounces of pure vodka he drank haven’t had time to hit him yet. “Yeah, well it’s only a matter of time. I know you.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head, tone darkening, “You don’t.”

Louis swallows, “Okay, maybe I don’t. But if you’re anything like you were, I know you can’t handle straight drink.” He peers out into the hallway once before closing the door behind him.

“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you  _stop_ trying to control everything I do? Fuck’s sake, I don’t think you even know how. Even after all this time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis bristles.

“Nothing,” Harry mumbles to himself.

Louis bites his cheeks, leaning against the door. Harry collapses onto his back on the mattress, which causes his shirt to ride up. Louis tries not to stare at the exposed skin there. 

“So. What did you want to talk about?” Harry asks, all mock-polite, “I’m all ears.”

Louis clears his throat and stays firmly pressed into the wall, deliberately keeping the distance between them. He doesn’t speak yet, trying to remember the real reason he’d brought Harry up here in the first place. He honestly had just wanted to get him away from the kitchen, alarms going off when he’d seen the younger boy down an entire cup of Niall’s ridiculous mixed drink that he’d been trying to pawn off on everyone that night. And maybe he was also trying to ditch Eleanor as well (his drunk ex had been clinging to him like a limpet all night, not that that fact wasn’t entirely his own fault, but whatever).

“Look, I think we need to get some things straight, here.”

Harry snorts from the bed, breaking Louis from his train of thought. He wonders if the alcohol has kicked in yet.

"And nothing's changed,” Harry sighs. “Your hit and run act is better than ever, Tommo, really."

Louis’ eyes narrow, "Don't call me that."

Harry laughs, "Why? That's your name, isn't it?"

"My friends call me that."

Harry’s lips curl into a mocking smirk, "Yeah, and we're not friends, are we?"

Louis levels him with an even stare, eyebrows raised slightly, and he knows he shouldn’t but he hears Harry’s cruel voice so loudly in his mind then ( _”We don’t have to be friends. We don’t have to talk at all.”_ )

“Just doing what you asked, mate.”

Harry eyes flash then, “Oh,  _piss off_ , Louis. Fucking hell, play the victim just like you always do, then. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

Suddenly Louis is just exhausted, too tired to play anymore. “Harry, for Christ sake. This is ridiculous. I can’t do this anymore, okay?”

Harry eyes him from the bed, mouth drawn into a tight line but in his eyes he looks just as tired as Louis feels.

“We kissed when I was seventeen,” Louis says softly, a whisper, a secret. He sees Harry swallow thickly at the acknowledgment.  Louis' voice trembles a little. It’s the first time he’s said that out loud. 

“And yeah,” he continues, “I treated you like shit afterwards. But it's been  _two years_. Are you just going to punish me forever for it?"

Harry seems to consider him for a moment before speaking, "I was never planning on seeing you again, actually. So no."

The honesty of the statement does something funny to Louis’ chest. His mouth opens and closes a few times, not sure what to think, "Really? Just never, at all?"

Harry’s mouth gapes, "Oh, you're offended. That's rich. You know, you can dish it, but you sure can’t take it, can you? I wish I had it as easy as you."

"What?"

"The straight boy act. How you're able to just pretend, live in this fantasy world where you can just do whatever you want like other people don’t matter. How's it working out for you? Is it everything you've ever wanted?"

Wait _. What?_

“Wait. You- You’re...?” Louis’ voice is tight then, disbelief and something else clouding his expression.

“Gay?” Harry supplies, “Yeah, I guess, if you want to label it.”

Louis feels his skin break out in goosebumps then, mind racing.

“I- Harry, I’m-“ He sounds like an idiot, he knows, stumbling over his words. It’s just… the thought of Harry actually being gay had never been a tangible one. Louis had always thought their kiss that night had been an impulse, a lapse of judgement from being caught in a moment. At least that’s what he always told himself. He pushes himself off the wall as Harry stands up from the bed and sways a little. Louis can see the pink flush of his cheeks and he doesn’t know if it’s entirely from the alcohol or the conversation.

"I know it's not a big deal to you, what we did. You made that pretty obvious.” Louis flinches a little, “But it was to me.”

“Harry, I. I know you’re mad that I didn’t…”

“ _I'm not mad_  because you didn't want me that way. I'm mad because you just  _left,_ Louis. Like it was  _so easy_. You left me with all this shit to figure out alone. I needed you as my friend and you didn’t care. You ignored me for months and I don't think I can ever forgive you for how easy it was for you to pretend I didn't exist.”  _It wasn’t_ , Louis desperately wants to say, but he can’t speak at all. “And so, on top of losing my best friend -  _christ_ , you were my  _best friend_  - I had to deal with realizing I'm gay too. So yeah, mate, I was angry and I had a right to be." He finishes the end in one solid breath and runs a frustrated hand over his face.

Louis sighs a shaky breath, voice coming out strained, “I- I’m sorry, okay?”

“Don’t,” Harry snaps, voice dangerously low, “Don’t say things you don’t mean to me.”

“You’re still angry.” It’s small and sounds more like a statement than a question.

Harry’s eyes snap to his, glaring, “Do you  _blame_  me?”

Louis’ hands are shaking now. “No,” he whispers, “No, I don’t blame you. It’s just… If this is going to work, us being at the same school, on the same team. I don’t see how it’s-“

“You act like this is all on me, Louis! Like it should just be easy for me to be around you. Like we should just fall back into old patterns. Well, I’m so sorry that I can’t forget everything that happened just because it’s easier for  _you_.”

“I didn’t- I’m not asking- I  _know_  it’s not easy, alright? I just meant that, you and me, what happened before, it can’t…”

He's cut off when Harry almost laughs, "Wait. You think I still have feelings for you or something?"

The simple question causes every coherent thought to fly out of Louis’ head. He feels his face explode with heat. His mouth gapes open but he doesn’t speak, scared because he’s not exactly sure how he wants to answer that question, or more importantly, what he wants to hear back.

"Figures,” Harry laughs, “You should really check your ego, mate. A lot’s happened in two years.”

Something flares up inside Louis’ chest that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. “So you’ve - With someone else, then?”

Harry studies him for a moment and then moves forward until they’re an arms length apart. Louis can see his glassy eyes from this close, vibrant green rings around his blown out pupils. Harry’s voice is low, calculated.

“Let’s just say… I actually know now what it's like to want someone who wants me back.”

Louis’ body betrays him. He hates the feeling that overcomes him – a feeling that makes him want to escape his own skin because this  _hurts_  and he doesn’t want to think about why.

“You know,” Harry whispers, “I spent a long time wondering if I really did imagine it. But I think we both know that I didn't...”

Louis’ breath hitches and his eyes fall to the ground.

He must’ve gone a while without speaking, waited too long, is too late like always. Because when he looks up again Harry isn’t there anymore, the door behind him left hanging open. 

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispers to no one. And not that he expected it to, but it changes absolutely nothing.

“ _There_  you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Louis tenses as small hands wrap around him from behind. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “I was talking to someone…”

“Who?” Eleanor manages to look at least a little concerned through her drunken stupor.

“No one,” Louis mutters, “Just an old friend…” She looks unconcerned then, kicking the door shut with her foot.

“I’m glad I found you, babe.” She wastes no time pushing Louis onto the bed and straddling his waist. She presses her slippery mouth to his and Louis can taste the alcohol on her breath and smell the smoke in her tangled hair. He thinks of stopping her, telling her he’s sorry for being such a prick and leading her on and that he’d love to but he just  _can’t right now_. He’s tired of fighting though. He’s just so tired in general. So instead, he kisses back, folds his hands over a waist that’s too small, too curvy, into a body that’s too slight and wonders when all of that changed.

When he comes, he sees rings of vibrant green behind his eyelids.


	5. Chapter 5

**Holmes Chapel, Cheshire | four years earlier**

“Do you think it’s strange, Haz?”

“What?”

“That you and I are friends.”

They’re lying on Louis’ bedroom floor, still dressed in their school uniforms. Harry’s in Year 10 now and Louis has just started Sixth Form. It’s strange, being this separated for the first time since they met. They’re still on the same campus, but they hardly ever see each other. Louis doesn’t know how he quite feels about it yet.

Harry cranes his neck to look at Louis. “No. Why?”

Louis only shrugs and changes the subject. “Met any girls you like yet?”

Harry laughs at that, cheeks tinged pink.

“Who is it? You have to tell me.”

“I do not. Besides, you don’t know her. She’s my age.”

“Well I know  _you_ , so maybe I know her, too.”

“You don’t. Her name is Millicent.”

Louis snorts, “ _Millicent_? What is she, sixty?”

Harry reaches over to smack his belly and call him a twat and it only makes Louis laugh harder.

“Is she fit?

Harry shrugs, “Yeah.”

“Think she’ll blow you?”

“Louis!”

“What?” Louis laughs, “S’just a question.”

Harry rolls his eyes, sighs and goes back to staring at the ceiling, “I don’t think so. I’d have to get her to look at me first.”

Louis’ eyebrows crease and he smirks to himself. Somehow the notion that Harry can’t get someone to notice him is something that doesn’t really make sense to him.

“Well, just wait till you’re in college like me. I bet you’ll pull better than anyone.”

“Yeah? And what makes you say that?” Harry turns on his side, propping up on his elbow. Louis smiles lazily up at him, considering.

“Because you’ve got curly hair.” He reaches up to take one of Harry’s curls between his fingers, tugging gently. “And dimples,” he adds, “Birds love dimples.” He pokes Harry in the cheek and Harry’s smile is suddenly big and too bright and Louis feels warm all over.

When he looks back on this moment years later, he’d like to say that this is the first time, but he doesn’t think it is.

 

**Essex, England | Present day**

 

Louis feels like shit the morning after the party. He hadn’t even had that much to drink, but he feels like he’s been hit by a truck or something. He honestly doesn’t know how he made it up for his morning classes. Luckily, he’d managed to avoid basically everyone that morning so far, slipping from lecture to lecture unnoticed by any of his friends. He thinks if he can just get through the last five minutes of his World Lit lecture and get back to his flat, this day will be exponentially better. Luck doesn’t seem to be in the cards for him these days though. As soon as he steps out of Henderson’s class he’s met with a pair of pretty doe eyes.

“Hey, Lou.” Eleanor looks so happy to see him he struggles for something to say back. She doesn’t seem to notice, hooking her arm around his and pulling him to the doors at the end of the hall.

“So, I was thinking. My cousin Moira is having her rehearsal dinner this weekend in Manchester. Will you be able to make that?”

Louis’ whole body stutters. “Rehearsal dinner,” he parrots, sounding like a right idiot.

“Yeah,” she chirps, “I’ve known about it for a while and I wasn’t going to bring anyone, but, you know, since last night and all…”

“Wait,” Louis stops them gently on the parkway outside, shaking his head.

“What’s the matter? Do you have something to do with football? It’s okay. I know it’s last minute and all.” Louis frowns, he didn’t think he could feel any worse than how he did when he woke up this morning, but he was definitely wrong.

“No, It’s not that. El, I don’t think- About last night…”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously, hand falling from the crook of Louis’ arm.

Louis sighs deeply, “Look, last night was fun. But, I’m sorry if I made you think I wanted to- to get back together. I know that wasn’t fair to you. I just- I just don’t think it’s the best idea for us to…”

He’s cut off abruptly by a sharp sting as Eleanor slaps him straight across the cheek. He freezes. When he recovers, his mouth is agape and he’s staring into wide, wet eyes.

“So that’s just it then, yeah? Fuck you, Louis.”

“El, I’m sorry, really-“

“You know,” she cuts him off, “I don’t know what happened to you. But you can’t just jerk other people around because you can’t figure out what you want.”

His mouth is still hanging open, hand pressed into the tingling flesh of his cheek. Eleanor walks away before he has a chance to say anything. Not that he really blames her for not wanting to stick around to hear more of his bullshit. Because that’s all it is, he realizes. Everything he says, every excuse, all of it, it’s all just bullshit. He hates himself suddenly. Not just for what he’s done to his ex-girlfriend, but for what he’s done to…everyone. It’s not like he doesn’t know he can be a selfish prat sometimes. It’s just...it all seems like it’s catching up with him at once, pressing in on him from all sides and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the guilt eating away at his insides.

“Bloody hell, mate. You know, almost thought I was watching an episode of Jeremy Kyle there for a minute.”

Louis groans and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and turns around. He fully expects to find Zayn smirking behind him, a devilishness glint in his eyes like always, but he’s surprised to find almost the exact opposite. His friend approaches him almost sheepishly, uncertainty in his dark eyes. They hadn’t exactly spoken since their tiff in the hallway earlier that week, but Louis assumed they’d just forget about it. Yet another thing for him to feel like shit over, he supposes.

Zayn clears his throat when Louis doesn’t speak for a minute, “Yeah, so, um, I’m sorry for the other day-“

“No,” Louis clips, finding his voice, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Zayn laughs lightly, “Yeah, I kind of did, actually.” Louis laughs too and shakes his head.

“The real question is, did you deserve that?” Zayn points to his cheek.

 Louis sighs. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “Yeah, I did.

Zayn only frowns and then shrugs gently, “Want to come over to mine, then? Liam ordered take-a-way.”

 

000

 

“Am I a shit person?” Louis asks softly from where he, Zayn and Liam are curled up on the couch, full from lunch and fighting off sleep. Louis almost wants to give in, if only to shut his mind off for a few hours. They’ve got practice soon though.

“What?” Liam asks, sounding bewildered from the other side of the couch next to Zayn.

Louis sighs, “I know I’m being fucking weird, it’s just…You’ll tell me the truth, right? Am I a prick?”

Zayn can’t help but laugh, “Yes. You are.”

Liam bats him in the chest, reprimanding, “ _No_. You’re not a prick, Louis. Why would you think something like that?”

Zayn must notice the serious expression on his face then. “Lou, I was only kidding. Well, sort of. You can be a right prick sometimes, yeah. But so can I. That’s why we’re friends.”

Louis smiles gently at him, “I know. I just mean. Like, in general, I guess?”

“I don’t… Why are you asking us this, Lou?” Louis can’t meet Liam’s troubled eyes.

“Because I’m starting to think it’s true. These days, since my accident, really, I feel like a bad person all the time. Like I’m always hurting someone. I can’t seem to stop…” He sits up on the couch then, bending his elbows until they’re resting on his knees. He lets a shaky breath go, “I’m sorry for being weird. Just… Ignore me. It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Liam says. “What happened, Lou?”

“Does it have anything to do with Calder slapping you this morning?” Zayn asks and Louis turns his head to glare at him. Zayn raises his hands, “Sorry mate, just makes sense, is all.”

“Eleanor slapped you?” Liam asks, “Why would she do that?”

Louis snorts, “More like why would she not. I maybe might have given her a reason to believe I wanted to get back together last night.”

“Yeah, you did!” Zayn barks, “Don’t think I didn’t see your little walk of shame at Brewer’s. I think half the footie team saw it.”

Louis groans, Zayn laughs lightly and Liam looks like his head is going to explode, “So I’m guessing that wasn’t the case then? You wanting to get back together?”

“No,” Louis breathes, “It wasn’t. We were both drinking and it just…happened.”

“Oh,” is all Liam says.

“Well, I really don’t see the bloody big deal, if you ask me,” Zayn pipes in, “I know you dated the girl for a year but don’t get down on yourself, mate. Everyone gives into an ex-fuck here and then. Better that you told her the truth instead of leading her on. She’ll get over it.”

“Zayn, that’s a bit insensitive, don’t you think?”

“Liam, the man feels guilty enough as it is, alright? I’m just trying to help.”

“It’s not…” Louis interrupts, “It’s not just Eleanor, okay?” Because she’s not the only reason he feels like this. She’s not even the main reason. And somehow it feels wrong, pretending she is, to his friends. Liam and Zayn are quiet behind him and he wonders if he’s said too much.

“Why were you and Harry Styles fighting at practice a few days ago?” Liam asks, small and unsure but also curious like he’s been waiting for the right time to ask. Louis doesn’t want to analyze why he thought that time was now. 

“Yeah,” Zayn adds, “You never did tell me what went down between you two at Priestly. I figured you would just squash it, whatever it was. Must have been pretty serious though if you’re trying to beat the shit out of each other on the pitch.”

“We weren’t trying to beat the shit out of each other,” Louis expression sours. “And nothing happened, okay? How many times do I have to tell you?”

Zayn laughs, “How much longer do you think I’m going to buy that shit, mate? I’ve never said anything to you about it because I honestly never gave two shits but you can’t tell me that nothing happened. You were best friends with that kid one minute and then you avoided him like the plague for four months. What did he do, fuck your mum or something?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Zayn!” Liam cries, apalled.

Louis just levels him with a murderous stare, “I honestly don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

“Ignore him, Louis,” Liam says gently, “You don’t have to tell us anything. But speaking of Harry, did anyone see him at Brewer’s the other night? Pissed out of his mind, he was.”

Louis stiffens.

“Did he get home alright?” Louis does his best to control the concern in his voice but he doesn’t think he succeeds all that well.

“Yeah,” Zayn mumbles, suddenly more pensive, “Think he stayed at Jake’s…”

“You think?” Fuck, he’s really failing at this now.

“Damn, Lou, I don’t know. I’m not the kid’s bloody keeper.”

Louis huffs sharply and gets up from the couch, “I’ve gotta go. Just, I’ll see you guys later, yeah? Thanks for lunch.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, leaving his friends to themselves on the couch without looking back.

 

000

 

Practice starts at 4:30 on Fridays. Louis is so wound up though that he gets there a half hour early, worry nagging at his chest. It’s not even a thing, really, or it wasn’t. Harry was fine, he’s sure. But he had casually asked Niall about it anyway when he’d gotten back to their flat after leaving Liam and Zayn’s that afternoon. (“Nah, mate, think he skived off class this morning. Didn’t see him at all today actually,”) he’d said and Louis had pretended he didn’t hear his added on (“Why?”) as he walked to his bedroom to get ready for practice.

He juggles the ball lazily, cracking his knuckles and biting his cheeks raw. His head snaps up when he catches sight of several figures walking up the field in his peripheral. None of them are Harry though.  He watches each group approach within minutes of each other as it draws closer and closer to the start of practice. At half past Harry is still nowhere to be seen. A flash of panic goes through him then, eyes scraping back over his teammates, trying to slow down enough to concentrate on each one of them, make sure he didn’t miss something. He even searches for the boy he now knows as Josh, Harry’s flatmate. Not that finding him will make much difference, but still. Harry should be here by now. He was never late to practice. In fact, he was usually early.

Paul’s voice startles him out of his momentary panic as his assistant coach signals the start of warm-up. Louis reluctantly gathers with the rest of the team onto the pitch, though his eyes keep flicking toward the entrance of the Essex practice field.

“You alright, Tommo?” It’s Niall who’s bounding over to him. “Why do you look so squirrely?”

“Squirrely? What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know. You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”

“Do I?” he asks, forcing his eyes to look at his friend. Niall isn’t looking at him though, head turned toward the entrance of the field instead.

“Ha!” he laughs. “He’s alive! Thought you might have bit the dust, mate.” 

Louis follows Niall’s line of sight, his eyes finally finding Harry as the boy jogs up the field. He looks worse-for-wear, managing a very weak smile at Niall.

“Almost. Sorry-“

“You’re late.” Louis snaps, pulling Harry’s attention to him. He knows he sounds angry, but he almost hates the way his body feels light again with the rush of relief. Harry only stares at him, expression even and controlled.

“Won’t happen again,” he bites out, eyes only leaving Louis’ once he’s stepped passed him to follow Niall onto the pitch.

They all kind of play like shit that afternoon, the after-effects of Brewer’s party apparent. Even Louis feels it, so he’s grateful when Paul blows the whistle early to end practice for the day.

“Hope you boys don’t plan on embarrassing yourselves next week playing like that. I expect more out of you. Moving on, the pre-season tournament is all next week, as you all know. We’ll be leaving for Leeds at 3 p.m. on Sunday so pack a week’s worth, bring your toothbrush, yadda, yadda, and for God’s sake,  _don’t be late_.”

 

000

 

Thankfully, they’re all at the bus well before it’s set to leave, even Harry. Not that Louis was specifically worried that he wouldn’t be or anything.

He’s over by himself a few meters off, smiling down at his mobile as he taps his fingers quickly over the keys. And not that he has any idea what he’d say or that he even has any right to, but Louis suddenly wants to walk over just to make him stop. Niall beats him to it though, coming over to hip check Harry gently. Louis watches them from behind his sunglasses, watches the way Harry laughs at something Niall says, his phone now forgotten in his pocket. Last he checked, Zayn and Liam were chatting amongst themselves somewhere behind him, so he’s startled when he suddenly sees Liam pop up by Harry and Niall. Within minutes of joining the conversation Louis can’t hear, Liam is practically beaming at Harry.

“Charming little fuck, isn’t he?” He thinks he ought to jump when he hears Zayn’s snippy voice at his ear, but to be honest, he’s impervious to the surprise by now.

He grunts softly, but doesn’t reply.

Louis mostly sleeps on the bus, taking the seat in the back for himself. Just as well, because Niall is sat by Harry before Louis’ even on the bus and Liam and Zayn are paired off like always and Louis is suddenly thankful he’s still wearing sunglasses so they can’t see his irritated expression.

Four hours later they’re finally pulling up to the hotel in Leeds, the sun just beginning to set. Their team and staff have the entire fourth floor booked, Louis finds out. Paul leads them up the lift to their floor as Coach Cowell checks them in properly. When they’re all in the mouth of the hallway, his eyes scan his clipboard.

“Alright, lads. Here are your room assignments.”

_Wait. Assignments?_

“Sully Anderson, Alan Brewer, Room 404. Matt Cardle, Josh Devine, 406...”

Louis listens as Paul lists off name by name, listening for his, trying to ignore his escalating heartbeat.

“…Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, 420...” He glances over to his friends, sees Zayn pinch Liam’s side after he takes their pair of room keycards and Liam just smiles and lets him.  _Lucky bastards_.

“…Wynn Radford, Brady Smith, Room 426. Harry Styles…”

Louis’ heart is in his throat, “…Louis Tomlinson, Room 428.” 

A dread settles over Louis as he wordlessly takes the keycard that’s pushed into his hand. He doesn’t hear the rest of the names, his eyes flying to Harry, who looks as horrified as he must. Harry isn’t looking at him though, eyes stuck on Paul, apparently waiting for him to finish because,  
  
“Coach, is there any way I could…” He sounds desperate and Louis hates it. 

“Alphabetical order, Styles. Is there a problem?”

Harry must feel Louis’ eyes on him then, because he turns his head, their eyes meeting across the hall and it feels like something sparks under Louis’ skin.

“No.” He shakes his head and sounds resigned, fingers gripping into his own room key. “No problem.”

“Good. Curfew at ten, lads; lights out by eleven. If you need me I’ll be down the hall in 401. Try not to need me, yeah?”

Harry doesn’t look at him again, just grabs his bag and stalks down the hall with purpose.

 _Shit_ , Louis thinks. What the hell was he supposed to do about this? A whole week sharing a room with someone who hates him. Great. He was completely…well, he thinks screwed doesn’t even begin to cover it.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Louis had hung back, let Harry walk to their room first as he silently tried to quell the anxiety filling up inside him. He doesn’t think he’s felt this nervous since that day he first saw Harry again on the pitch. Lately, whenever things get too intense, Louis can usually run the other way, escape. But there’s nowhere to go now and he’s scrambling.  
  
“Alright, mate?” Zayn asks from behind him. He actually looks concerned, too.  
  
Louis sighs, “Yeah. I’m fine. It’ll be fine.”  
  
Zayn grips the back of his neck consolingly and then catches up to where Liam is waiting for him up ahead. The hall has emptied by the time Louis finally picks his bag up from the floor and treks down the hall until he reaches  _428_. The number is brassy and smooth, seems to mock him. He takes a deep breath and then rolls his eyes. This was ridiculous. There was obviously no way to get out of this, and Louis wasn’t going to deal with this tension for the rest of the week because Harry decided he wasn’t going to stop hating him anytime soon. He all but slams his keycard into the slot and waits for the light to burn green before shoving the door open.  
  
He decides he’s going to be mature about this and has half a mind to strike up some kind of truce but when he walks into the room he sees Harry already lying in one of the beds, face turned away with his headphones in. It’s then that Louis notices that it’s completely dark outside.  _Fine_ ,  _whatever_ , he thinks. It’s easier this way, anyway. Louis drops his bag, goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and then climbs straight into bed without a word. Harry obviously didn’t care about trying to make this situation less awkward so why should he waste his time?  
  
He turns the lamp off, closes his eyes and tries not to wonder how long they can both stay silent before it drives them crazy.  
  
000  
  
They win their first game quite easily. It’s not all that surprising, the university they’re playing not exactly well known for their football program. But it’s a win all the same and none of them can stop smiling as they walk off the field. Coach Cowell rewards them by giving them the rest of the afternoon off to do whatever they want provided they are back at the hotel before curfew.  
  
Louis is automatically pulled into whatever plans his friends have cooked up in the time it’s taken them to get back to their rooms (which turns out to be just hanging out in Niall’s room playing FIFA). He’s walking to his door, Harry trailing a few meters behind him when he hears Niall’s voice down the hall.  
  
“Hey, Tommo, we’re getting food from downstairs first. You guys want anything?”  
  
He and Harry both shake their heads in unison. “I’m fine, Nialler, thanks,” Louis says.  
  
Niall turns to Harry then, “Haz, you’re coming over in a few, right?”

Louis freezes.

“Um…”  
  
“Come on. Just for an hour or two, yeah?”  
  
“Um…Yeah, okay.”  
  
“Good lad.” He claps Harry’s shoulder and turns to walk to the lift, “See you tossers in a half!”  
  
Louis opens the door quickly after that, not looking back at Harry. When he hears the door click shut behind him he’s prepared for more silence. So he starts when he hears Harry’s voice instead.

“I don’t… I don’t have to go, if it’s weird. I was just being polite…”  
  
Louis stops, head turned slightly so Harry knows he’s heard him. He turns to face him slowly, his head shaking before he can stop himself.  
  
“No, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”  
  
“I know,” Harry shuffles his feet, “It’s just, they’re your friends, and-“  
  
“They’re not- I don’t own them, Harry…And I don’t care if you come. Honestly.”  
  
Harry clears his throat, “Right. Sorry.”  
  
Louis sighs, “Don’t be.”  
  
Harry just nods again, head ducked down and chewing on his bottom lip.  
  
“Great game, by the way,” Louis mutters and then flushes, feeling like a complete idiot. But Harry actually offers a small, surprised smile at his words and it makes Louis pause. He doesn’t remember how long it’s been since he’s made Harry smile. But he managed to do it just then without even meaning to and it’s small, but it’s progress and he’ll take it. He ignores the overwhelming need to make him do it again, offering him the first shower instead.  
  
“Um, okay. Thanks…” and Harry looks a little confused but mostly pleasantly surprised and Louis decides that, yeah, he’ll take that too.  
  
Maybe he might survive this week, after all.

 

  
000

 

  
Later, when Louis’ done with his shower he comes out of the bathroom to a fully dressed Harry lounging on the bed. He’s got the hotel tv on, watching some old show that used to come on when they were kids. Louis can’t remember the name of it. All he can remember is that Harry used to watch it non-stop.  
  
Harry doesn’t notice him right away, and Louis wants to move, go and get himself dressed, but he can’t stop watching the younger boy, the way he looks so relaxed as he mouths the words in time with the characters on the screen. Louis doesn’t know how long he stands there before a gentle laugh escapes him.

“You still watch this show?”  
  
Harry’s eyes snap to where he’s standing, clearly caught off guard at being watched. Louis notices his cheeks go instantly red before he turns his eyes back to the tv quickly and mumbles a barely audible “Not really…”  
  
Louis frowns. Harry’s lifted mood from earlier seems to be gone as quickly as it came. Louis watches as he stares straight ahead resolutely, cheeks still burning red. Louis glances down at himself then, registering that he still has nothing but a towel on around his waist. Oh. For a split second he thinks about getting dressed in the bathroom, but, well, it’s not like Harry has any feelings toward him other than hatred so him being naked shouldn’t be a problem. Harry used to get his kit off in front of him all the time like it was nothing, to the point where Louis thinks he’s probably seen the younger boy naked more than he’s seen himself.  
  
So he puts his clothes out on the bed and dresses quietly. He hears Harry click the tv off abruptly and then the familiar thick silence is back. And Louis realizes that he could let this go again, ride this week out on awkward silence that’s actually so loud it makes his skin itch, but he doesn’t know if he can honestly take another second of that. He clears his throat, voice coming out rough and timid.  
  
“Do you think we could talk for a minute?”  
  
When Harry looks at him and it’s not with immediate distaste or incredulity, Louis can almost feel the pressure lift from his chest. If anything, Harry looks almost thankful when he mumbles a quiet response of “Yeah, sure.”  
  
Louis frowns, suddenly struggling for what he wants to say, frustration clear on his face. He clears his throat and finally meets Harry’s eyes, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Okay. Um. I don’t really know how to start so I’m just going to come out with it then.”  
  
Harry only nods once.  
  
“I’m tired of feeling like this.”  
  
Harry averts his eyes, “Like what?”  
  
“Fuck, Harry, I don’t know. Like I can’t be in the same room with you without feeling like you’re going to strangle me in my sleep or something?”  
  
Harry chokes, almost laughs, “So dramatic. See that hasn’t changed at all.”  
  
Louis bites into his cheek to keep from smirking, “Well. It’s a valid concern. Seeing as you hate me and all.”  
  
Harry sighs, fingers pushing through his hair, “I don’t hate you, Louis. I never hated you...”  
  
“Yeah, you did…” Louis mutters softly. And in that moment, somewhere deep down, he wants Harry to know that it’s okay that he does, or did, or whatever; that he doesn’t really blame him because he kind of understands what it’s like to hate himself too, right now.  
  
“Yeah, well, look how far that’s gotten me.”  
  
Louis sighs heavily, “I don’t think either one of us is really getting very far. Not like this at least.”  
  
“Well what are you saying, exactly?” Harry looks hopeful then. Tired and hopeful.  
  
“I’m saying I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I’m saying…Fuck, Harry, I'm saying I miss being friends with you, okay?”  
  
Harry looks weary then, mouth dropping open to surely put a stop to the conversation but Louis presses on, “I know. I know that’s not fair, to say that. I don’t expect you to just… I don’t expect you to forget everything because it’s easier for me. I just can’t stand this anymore. I don’t like feeling like this, making someone else this uncomfortable by just being in the same room as them. I’m not used to that. I just- I guess I just need something to change or I’m going to…” He closes his mouth then because suddenly he’s run out of words and all he can do is wait for Harry to accept or reject this.  
  
Harry meets Louis' eyes directly then. “Me too.”  
  
Louis lets the breath go that he was holding.  
  
“So we can try this?” he asks hopefully, “Us being friends again?”  
  
Harry’s head shakes slightly then, “I don’t- I don’t know if I can do that yet, Louis. Maybe just…Maybe we can just try not hating each other first? Work our way up?”  
  
“Harry, I never hated you.” He says it firmly, because he needs Harry to know that, more than anything else.  
  
Harry’s frown is still etched into his face, but it’s not as deep now, not as hopeless, “Well… Okay, then.”  
  
“Okay?”  
  
Harry nods softly, “Will be.”  
  
Louis can’t contain his smile. Yeah, he’ll definitely take this.

 

  
000

  
  
Niall’s room is packed when he and Harry get there, and it smells like hot chips and beef jerky and boy.  
  
“Damnit, Zayn! Stop cheating, you prick!”  
  
“Sully, should we pause the game so you can cry me a river? Or shall I get back to kicking your arse?”  
  
Zayn and Sully are sitting on the floor in front of the bed playing FIFA while Liam and Niall watch from where they’re lying flat above them on the bed.  
  
“Fucking cheat!” Sully throws the controller as Zayn scores again.  
  
“Well, you know what I say, if you’re not cheating you’re not trying, isn’t that right, Li?” He cranes his neck up to look at the boy on the bed, shit-eating grin on his face.  
  
Liam laughs, “Pretty sure you didn’t say that. And you’re awful.”  
  
“Maybe. But I’m also a winner so it evens out.”  
  
“Lou! Hazza!” Niall cries from the bed, holding his arms out before tucking them back in against his stomach, groaning.  
  
Louis laughs, looking at Liam then, “Did he eat too much at dinner?”  
  
“What do you think?”  
  
“Fuck off, all of you. You don’t know this pain.”  
  
“What, a stomachache?”  
  
“No. When the thing you love most is what destroys you.”  
  
Zayn rolls his eyes, “Pretty sure the only thing getting destroyed is the bathroom later. And Grimshaw’s sense of smell.”  
  
Harry laughs from beside Louis, walking over to the bed to pluck a large bag of crisps from underneath Niall’s arm. Niall has rolled over onto his back now. Harry points a finger in his face, “What did I tell you about snacking in between meals?”  
  
Liam laughs and Niall only pouts at him and something about the exchange makes Louis' insides jump. It’s how easy Harry is with his friends like he’s known them forever. He supposes Harry took him that way in the beginning as well, so he doesn’t know why he’s so surprised that his friends seem to love everything about him. It’s not like it was ever hard…  
  
Zayn tosses the controller down then. “I'm bored. Niall, where’s your guitar?”  
  
“Closet. Why?”

When Zayn bounds up to go get it, Niall jerks up, “You don’t even know how to play, you twat.”

“I’m a quick learner.”  
  
“The hell you are. Give it here.” Zayn smiles, handing it over, which is probably what he wanted in the first place. Niall scoots up to sit against the headboard, propping the guitar up in his lap, strumming random chords to tune it. Harry takes the seat between the bed and wall and he and Louis’ eyes meet briefly as Louis takes Niall’s vacated seat at the end of the bed. In that moment things feel eerily easy, settled.  
  
Niall looks around the room, “This was _just_  like my dream, let me tell you.”  
  
“Oh, not this again,” Zayn groans, “We’ve already heard this Niall.”  
  
“Well, they’ve already heard it,” Niall says, unperturbed, addressing Louis and Harry, “But you guys haven’t.”  
  
Louis laughs and turns to Liam, “Can you give me the short version?”  
  
“Niall had a dream we were all in a band,” Liam explains.  
  
“Oi! Rude. It’s my story!” Louis and Liam both roll their eyes fondly.  
  
“A band, huh?” Louis smirks, “And what did we each do in this so-called ‘band’?”  
  
“Uh…”  
  
“Like, what kinda band were we?”  
  
“Shit, I don’t know, Louis. We were just a band...and we’d like, sing and shit.”  
  
“Sing and shit. Sounds invigorating. I’ve always wanted to do that,” he says, mock-wistfully and when Harry snorts a laugh at that, Louis ducks his head and smiles to himself, tries to ignore the tiny thrill in his chest. He sneaks a glance at Harry a few seconds later and his heart drops when he sees him tapping something into his phone, small smile on his lips.  
  
“You’re a twat. I’m being serious. We were like, massively popular and we played for millions and were super rich. You, me, Liam, Zayn-“  
  
“Oi! What about me?” Sully asks.  
  
“You weren’t there,” Niall says easily, ignoring the boy’s scowl.  
  
“And Hazza was like, the lead singer,” Niall finishes.  
  
Louis says “Harry?” at the same time Harry says “me?” and they look at each other then, tiny smiles tugging on their lips. Louis ignores the way Zayn is now staring at him like he’s grown two heads.  
  
“Well, Niall, it’s nice to have dreams. It’s too bad we’d be the worst band in existence, though.”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Niall reasons, “I think we’d be pretty alright. I’ve got sick guitar skills, obviously.”  
  
“Well,” Liam interjects, “None of us can really sing, so.”  
  
“We can so! And, besides, we’d really only need one singer anyway. And Harry’s got a great voice. I’ve heard him.”  
  
Harry’s eyes go wide then, turning his phone face down in his lap. His mouth twists in a way that makes him look slightly disturbed, “Uh, where have you heard me sing?”  
  
Niall shrugs, unbothered, “You sing in the locker shower sometimes.”  
  
“You little Irish  _creep_ ,” Zayn laughs.  
  
“What?” Niall says indignantly, “No one else has ever heard him?”  
  
They all shake their heads slowly and Harry blushes deep. Louis sneaks glances at him when the other boys aren’t looking, watching him shake his head before turning his phone over again and scrolling through it before smiling softly and tapping out something in reply. Louis suddenly feels too hot in the small room, insides churning.  
  
Niall starts strumming something familiar then, his soft voice filling the air. Some song from the 90s, Louis recognizes. His eyes don’t leave Harry and he doesn’t even care that Zayn and Liam can tell.  
  
“… _sweet you rock and sweet you roll. Lost for you, I’m so lost for you_ …”  
  
Harry just keeps smiling, reading, typing, smiling some more.  
  
“... _i’m bare-boned and crazy for you_ …”  
  
Louis picks at the bedspread, fingers pulling up loose threads roughly.  
  
“… _if I’ve gone over-board then I’m begging you to forgive me over my haste_ …”  
  
Harry laughs lightly then, sucking his lower lip between his teeth.  
  
“… _come crash into me, baby_ …”  
  
When Niall finally stops singing, Louis is secretly thankful. He tries to focus his attention on the conversations going on around him then. He listens to Zayn and Harry banter back and forth where Harry gives as good as he gets, causing Louis’ chest to swell with something like pride. It’s easy, the lot of them. And Harry fits in so seamlessly that it’s hard to feel awkward when they’re all together like this. The mood is broken soon though, Sully’s voice so immediate Louis doesn’t even have time to do anything but be shocked.  
  
“So, Louis, I heard you fucked Calder last week. Finally came to your senses then?”  
  
In any other instance, he’d probably tell the boy the fuck off and mind his own business, but he’s stuck in place by the way Harry jolts at the words, his fingers freezing over the keypad of his phone. It makes Louis feel sickeningly satisfied in some way.  
  
“Sully, don’t be a prat,” Liam scolds.  
  
“What? Are you saying it’s not true? A ton of people saw you leaving Brewer’s that night.”  
  
Louis’ heart jolts. He should be answering, firing back, but all he can do is watch for the way Harry is reacting to the words. He’s in no way indicating that he’s even listening to the conversation, but Louis can see his fingers, almost white at the knuckles where they’re gripping his phone.  
  
Part of him wants Sully to continue, keep talking until Harry breaks in some way, clenches his phone so tight it flies right out of his hand ( _and preferably out the window_ , Louis thinks). Harry starts typing again though, albeit more slowly this time.  
  
Louis waits, on edge, for Sully to say something else but he seems to be finished when he sees Louis isn’t responding. So Louis clears his throat and the words are out before he can take them back.

“What can I say? A good fuck is a good fuck.”  
  
He’s not prepared for Harry to stand as suddenly as he does. No one else seems as bothered by it though.  
  
“Hey guys, s’been great but I think I’m gonna turn in early, yeah? See you tomorrow.” Harry tries to sound casual but Louis can hear his voice wavering slightly, has known him long enough to see his cracks when he’s trying to hide them.  
  
“Later, Hazza.”  
  
Louis tries to wait an appropriate amount of time before announcing his own exit. He still thinks Liam had eyed him a little too suspiciously when he all but ran out the door though.  
  
When he slides his key into the door and steps inside, he’s confused to see Harry slipping on his shoes.  
  
“You going somewhere?”  
  
Harry’s head snaps up, “Out.”  
  
It’s all he can be bothered to say apparently, so Louis pushes.  
  
“Are you mad about something?”  
  
Harry looks at him blankly then, lips barely turning down at the corners, “What would I have to be mad about?”  
  
Louis ducks his head and shrugs slightly, “Where are you going, then?”  
  
Harry sighs, like he’s exasperated with every question that leaves Louis’ mouth. He reaches down to tie up a loose lace.

“Few blocks over to see a friend. Drove in from out of town.”  
  
“A friend.”  
  
Harry straightens up, eyes adopting their original cold state that Louis’ seen more of in the last two weeks than throughout their entire five year friendship.  
  
“What does it matter to you…?” His voice is lower now, edging on something Louis doesn’t know if he wants to provoke. He opens his mouth to say something but as usual, his stupid brain stalls and Harry rolls his eyes eventually, turning around to grab his wallet from the night table and tuck it into his jeans.  
  
“Are you with someone?” It’s a whisper, his voice breaking slightly.  
  
Harry turns around to face him, “What?”  
  
“You’re with someone,” he states, though it still sounds like a question.  
  
Harry looks disbelieving then, “So what if I am? Why would that mean anything to you?”  
  
“It…”  _doesn’t_  his brain screams at him to finish. But it’s a lie and it hits Louis so hard he feels faint.  
  
“It’s already almost a quarter past,” he says instead, “You won’t make it back in time.”  
  
Harry’s mouth falls open indignantly, “Are you taking the piss right now?”  
  
Louis takes a step back and shakes his head, “No, I’m not. Look, whatever it is you’re trying to do-“  
  
“It’s not any of your business what I do!”  
  
Louis winces, but keeps his voice level, “It’s my business when you’re on my football team and we’ve got an important game tomorrow. There’s no way you’ll be back by curfew.”  
  
“Yeah, not now I won’t. Are you happy? You- I just-" He almost growls, “I just don’t  _understand_  you.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I don’t get you, Louis. You tell me today that you want to stop fighting-“  
  
“I  _do_.”  
  
“You tell me… you want to be  _friends_  again and  _i’m trying_ , okay? So why are you making it so hard?” He waits, arm turned out like he’s waiting for all of Louis’ answers to simply fall into the palm of his hand.

“ _Answer me_ ,” he pushes, “Why?”  
  
Louis sucks in a breath and the words come out choked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
Harry drops his hand then, eyes turning down to the floor and he almost laughs, “Of course not…”  
  
“Harry…”  
  
“Whatever Louis. You’re getting your way, okay? Just leave me alone.”  
  
He walks to the balcony then, opening and shutting the glass door loudly. Louis jumps where he stands, heart hammering in his chest. He sits on the edge of his bed, fingers pulling at invisible threads. He watches Harry bring his phone to his ear, talking quickly and hushed. He can tell he’s angry even though he can’t hear a word he's saying, his forehead pinched in a certain way and his lips turned down at the corners.  
  
Louis can’t watch anymore. He walks to the bathroom and shuts the door, turning the sink on full blast and dousing his face in cold water. He braces himself on the counter with his elbows, holding his face in his hands. He stares at his reflection after a moment, takes in the dark shadows forming under his eyes and wonders how everything managed to spiral out of control so quickly. He almost knocks his bag off the counter as he grabs for his toothbrush. His hands won’t stop shaking.  
  
When he’s finally calm enough to come out of the bathroom, he’s met with complete darkness. He finds his bed with only a little trouble, sliding in as quietly as he can. He can vaguely make out the shape of Harry’s body underneath the covers of his own bed. Louis turns on his side and watches for the tell-tale sign of Harry’s chest rising and falling. He’s probably not even asleep yet, Louis thinks, his mind still racing with thoughts of people who aren’t Louis.  
  
At the party, when Harry had admitted to him that he’d been with other people, other boys, in Louis’ mind that was in the past, somewhere in the two-year span where they didn’t exist in each other’s lives, but not  _now_. It was never  _now_ …except it is. Harry is in the bed next to him and he’s thinking about another boy in the way that he used to think about Louis. He’s thinking about someone who’s probably really nice to him ( _It’s not like I ever wanted you here, anywa_ y) and will kiss him whenever he wants ( _You just imagined it, okay?_ ) and touch him the way he likes ( _I don’t want you_ ) and…  
  
Louis turns in his bed abruptly, facing away from Harry and focusing his eyes on the wall instead. His heart feels strangely tight and foreign in his chest - like whatever’s in there doesn’t quite belong to him, doesn’t obey anything he tells it, never stops wanting things he can’t give it.  
  
He has to force his hands still, can’t stand the way they itch to reach out and touch something that isn’t his, something he has no claim over. He thinks maybe he did, at one point. No, he  _knows_  and that’s the thing. He knows he did but everything is so messed up now. He’s lived so long in the lie that he doesn’t remember what it even feels like to be honest with himself anymore.  
  
It’s only in the darkness of this room he shares with a boy he’s learning all over again that he can admit it…in the quiet black, where no one can ever accuse him of it.  
  
He felt everything.  
  
It was all there, for  _years_ , he thinks, building and ebbing, turning him inside out. He felt all of it probably before Harry even… And that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s always been him selfishly dragging Harry along in his wake only to cut him loose, leave him floundering for solid ground.  
  
Louis feels his insides seize, brain going in all different directions because everything he’s spent such careful time trying to hide away is rushing to the surface again so fast he can’t stop it, can’t justify or organize it away like he’d been able to do in the past. He’d buried it so well in denials and girls and football and  _Eleanor_ , in a life he built for himself away from Harry. He’d managed to hide it for so long, let their last fight and his brutal rejection of Harry, of  _himself_ , carry him for two whole years.  
  
It had been easier then. He was leaving for university, going somewhere Harry couldn’t follow. But now Harry’s here and he’s not going anywhere. And Louis realizes with an abrupt clarity that he doesn’t want him to. Not at all.  
  
Something breaks open inside him, settles in his bones deep and he’s terrified because he doesn’t know if he can stop it this time, doesn’t know if he wants to.  
  
He follows the even rhythm of Harry’s breathing, lets it pull him under.  
  
When he shuts his eyes, he dreams of car crashes, and then of home.


	7. Chapter 7

Louis’ blood thumps loudly in his ears as he darts down the field. Zayn has passed the ball to Harry and there’s only seconds on the clock. Harry drives through another player, skillfully gliding the ball between his feet. He passes the ball to Louis then, who picks up where he left off with ease, shielding the ball expertly when a defender attempts to steal. The clock is almost up when he chips the ball back to Harry and he watches as he volleys it upwards before leaping into the air and kicking it right passed the keeper. And with that, they win their second game.

A grin explodes on Louis’ face, his eyes never leaving Harry once as the boy picks himself up from the ground and roars with excitement, arms extended behind him. Elation swirls around Louis’ chest but he slows to a jog when he sees Niall and Liam run in and scoop Harry up, lifting and hugging him tightly. Harry looks blissed out and Louis couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. Over the heads of their swarming teammates Harry’s eyes fall in his direction. Louis can’t tell if he’s actually looking at him though, because he’s still smiling so brightly. Too brightly, like a beacon on the field and for a moment Louis feels mesmerized by it.

He keeps his distance as they make it back to the hotel, letting Niall talk his ear off on the bus. He thinks he should try harder to utilize the distraction, but Harry is still filling up every corner of his mind. He’s toward the front of the bus, smile still impossibly big as he talks with Brewer. Harry never looks at him once and Louis burns.

“…I think we could actually win this thing. I mean, I know it doesn’t really count for shit but it’d be nice, yeah?” Louis nods, tries to focus his attention on his friend.

“I mean, I was sort of worried before that we were gonna be a bit shit this year. But with you back and Styles playing like a beast, I don’t know, Tommo, I think we’re gonna be alright.”

Louis’ eyes are trained on Harry as they walk off the bus and into the hotel lobby. He finds his feet shuffling more quickly, eager to get back to the room. His brows draw together and he slows his pace when he sees Coach Cowell lightly tap Harry’s arm a few meters ahead. He watches, confused, as Harry breaks away from the group to follow their coach off somewhere else.

Zayn collides with him from behind.

“Oomph. It’s called walking, Tomlinson, you know? Step one, step two.” Louis flips him off and shakes his head lightly to focus himself. He heads for the lift quickly then, not allowing himself to look back.

“Hey, Louis!” Niall calls from down the hall after they get off on their floor, “FIFA in my room later. Tell Harry he’s coming.”

_Harry, Harry, Harry._

It’s all Louis can concentrate on right now. He’s everywhere and Louis can’t get away from it. He doesn’t even turn around, walking on shaky legs to his room and clumsily pushing his keycard in, which takes too many times to work properly. When he finally gets the door open he steps inside quickly, thankful to be by himself. But even here, alone, Harry is still everywhere; His clothes on the floor, his sheets bunched up at the end of his bed, traces of his cologne stuck in the air.

Louis doesn’t want to stay here, but he can’t leave. He remembers now, why he ran from this before, why he fought against it. Because this feeling is worse than Harry hating him. Absolutely so much worse.

He locks himself in the bathroom. He ignores Harry’s things littered on the countertop, turning the tap on and splashing his face with cold water. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing his brain to shut off if only for a minute. He doesn’t want to talk about this, but he thinks he might go crazy if this stays in his head for one more second. But who would he tell, anyway? He can’t even say it out loud so how is he supposed to tell someone that he thinks he's maybe loved a boy since he was thirteen, and that it scared him so much he did everything he could to bury it…to keep it out? How does he tell someone that it doesn't even matter, that there's no point because there's no way Harry wants this now? Because Louis messed everything up and figured too much out too late and there's just...no point.

The only person he wants to talk to wants nothing to do with him and the fucked up thing is, Louis can’t even blame him anymore. Louis can barely look at himself in the mirror these days. A part of him wants to laugh. Because all it took was a few weeks to undo two years of a life he spent so much time molding into what he needed it to be. And it was a lie, but it was comfortable. Nothing is comfortable now though. One step forward, two steps back and now he can’t even get Harry to look at him, much less talk to him. But for the sake of his own sanity, he’s going to have to try.

He doesn’t know how much time he has, but he hopes it’s enough to figure out what he’s going to say.

 

000

 

When Harry is pulled into an almost empty lobby area by his head coach after the game, about a million different emotions are swirling around in his body. He’d just scored the winning goal for their team in only his second game as a university player and he’s still on cloud nine about it. He’s weary though, when his coach pulls him aside, not ready to hear anything that might burst this euphoric bubble he’s in.

“Is something the matter, coach?”

The man laughs then and Harry visibly relaxes.

“Absolutely not. I was going to wait for the regular season but I don’t really see the point. I’m really impressed with your dedication and performance with this team so far, and…I’d like to start you as forward from here on out.”

Harry sputters, smile growing even wider. “Wow. Coach, I- _Thank you_. I don’t really know what to say. Just- thank you…”

“Well, thank you, for your hard work and for choosing Essex. I think you’re going to be great here.”

Harry trips over the start of his words some more and he feels like a little kid on Christmas but he’s so happy right now he doesn’t care.

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t given me a chance to be a part of this program. So really, thank _you_.”

Coach Cowell chuckles, “Well, I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit for you being here, as much as I’d like to.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got Tomlinson to mostly thank for that one, actually.”

Harry freezes, heart stuttering painfully, “What?”

His coach looks slightly confused with Harry’s sudden shift in demeanor but continues on anyway, “Lets just say…you came highly recommended from Priestly and it wasn’t just from your coaches.”

It’s suddenly hard to breathe. Harry can vaguely feel his coach’s hand tapping his shoulder before he walks away and Harry’s left alone. His mind races then, re-playing all the moments in his head since he got to this school, since he saw Louis again - every antagonistic look, all the bullshit, the arguments, the press of his back against a wall, the pushing and pulling and the frustration. The silence. And it had been even harder because it hadn’t been anyone’s fault that they had ended up at the same place, on the same team. It was hell sometimes but he had no one to blame because it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Except now it was. _It was_ and Harry feels sick.

 

000

  
  
Louis hears the door open as he’s about to leave the toliet. His heart gives a painful thump as he hears Harry enter the room. He looks at himself in the mirror one last time, makes himself take a deep breath.  _Okay_.  _Talking_. He tells himself that things can only go up from here, ignores the part of his brain that knows that’s probably not true. When he walks into the room, he immediately starts speaking so he won’t chicken out.  
  
“Look, I know you’re still mad at me, but do you think we could-”  
  
“You  _knew_.”  
  
Louis halts, his eyes finally taking in the boy in front of him. Harry is so tense he’s shaking, and the tone of his voice causes a slight shiver to zip up Louis’ spine.  
  
“Knew what?”  
  
“Don’t bullshit me. You  _knew_  I was coming here. You helped  _scout_  me."  
  
Recognition suddenly blooms in Louis mind. He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated, panicked.  
  
"It- It wasn't like that... Harry-"  
  
"No,  _fuck you,_ Louis. You're a lying, selfish prick! Fine, go on then,” he snaps, voice bordering on manic, “keep it up. See how much further you can push me. You must get some kind of sick pleasure from it, so keep going. I'm obviously too fucking  _stupid_ to walk away from it. So you know what? Just-"

He's cut off abruptly by Louis' body slamming into his, warm lips knocking into his own. Louis' eyes are shut so tightly he sees spots behind his lids. His fingers dig into Harry's shirt desperately as he presses their mouths together. His mind is racing. He doesn't know what he's doing, just knows he wants this. Knows he's so tired of trying not to.

His stomach plummets when Harry tenses and staggers away from him, eyes going the size of saucers, chest heaving much like Louis' own.

He doesn't say anything. Just stares, gaze jumping between Louis' eyes and mouth several times. Louis breathes deep and dares to step forward again, still riding on adrenaline. His heart picks up when Harry doesn't move away. So he connects their mouths again, just as warm and desperate, and pushes his tongue against Harry's lips pleadingly. It takes a moment, only a moment, before Harry responds, and Louis’ heart swells. His skin burns where Harry's suddenly gripping into him. Louis pushes himself forward until there's no space left between them, torsos sliding against one another as he fists Harry's hair, shirt, anywhere he can reach, swallowing his mouth roughly, teeth scraping against his lips. Harry comes alive, licking into Louis' mouth whenever his tongue finds an opening, fighting for dominance; kissing Louis back like it's all he's ever known how to do.

It only serves to make Louis hold onto him even tighter, not allowing them to separate until he desperately needs to breathe. He breaks their mouths apart gently but doesn’t extend the distance between them. Harry sways with him, breathing heavily, eyes locked intensely with his. When Louis catches his breath he leans back in yet again, connecting their lips for a third time. It's gentler now, lips making small smacking noises as they press against Harry's before moving to the corner of his mouth, and then his cheek, his jaw. He hears Harry's breath hitch softly when he curiously darts the tip of his tongue along the skin below his ear.

A sharp ringing sound buzzes from Harry’s pocket a second later. They both jump. Louis feels Harry’s hands twist in his shirt then, gently trying to push him back, “I- Louis...”  
  
“No,” Louis breathes against his ear. “Ignore it.”  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“You still feel something.” He grasps Harry’s face between this hands, “You do. I can feel it.”  
  
Harry breathes shakily, his eyes screwed shut, “I don’t want to…”  
  
“H, it’s okay… It’s okay. It wasn't just you. I'm sorry. It was never just you.” He brings his mouth to Harry’s again desperately but Harry pulls his face away, bringing his hands to Louis’ wrists, pulling his grip loose and stepping back. Louis watches him carefully, fear and panic swimming inside him, like he’s about to lose everything and he’s not ready.  
  
Harry cups his hand over his mouth and sways on the spot. It eventually falls to his chest. “This doesn’t make any sense.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Why now? After all this shit? Why now? What’s changed?” Louis can see the wetness shining in his eyes.  
  
“Harry…please.”  
  
“No,” Harry shakes his head. “No. I deserve an explanation. You aren’t being fair. Nothing you do is ever  _fair_  and I  _deserve_  that much from you; the truth, Louis, for once in your fucking life. Just please.  _Why_  are you doing this? Is this what you…? If this is what you want then why did you- Why have you been dragging me through bloody hell and back since I got here?”  
  
Louis can only shake his head.  
  
“No, tell me  _why_.”  
  
“Because I didn't want to feel this way, Harry!” he shouts. “I was fucking scared. Is that what you want to hear? I never wanted to feel like this and I thought...I thought if I just  _got away from you_ , it would go away.”  
  
Harry’s mouth gapes open in disbelief.  
  
Louis shakes, voice brittle. “I just. I spent the last two years trying to forget about you. I just wanted to forget you...”  
  
“Did you?”  
  
"Fuck, Harry. I don't- I don't know. Sometimes I think I did... But here you are. So none of it even matters because no matter where I go you’re always going to catch up to me somehow, so-”  
  
“ _You_ are the reason I’m here. I had nothing to-”  
  
“I know!” Louis cuts him off, hanging his head. All is silent for several moments until Harry speaks again.  
  
“How?”  
  
“How what?”  
  
“How did I end up here, Louis? If you were so intent on forgetting me, how did I end up here?”  
  
"I saw your name…” he answers simply, like it’s the most sensible explanation in the world.  
  
"What?"  
  
"On a piece of paper. Months ago. Coach asked me to look over it. It was a list of scout options…and your name was on it. It scared me when I saw it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Louis shrugs. "He gave me a list and all I could think was  _this is it_ , right? I had your future right there in my hands, so I circled your name and I didn't know what would happen after that. Honestly, I didn’t even know if it would mean anything. But it was either that or know for certain that I’d probably never see you again.”  
  
“Then why did you act so surprised when I turned up here then?”  
  
“Because it was so long ago when it happened. _Months_. And then scouting finally started but I got in that accident and-“  
  
“What accident?” Harry clips.  
  
Louis pauses and then sighs. “It doesn’t matter… None of it matters now.”  
  
Harry doesn’t speak for several beats and Louis thinks the conversation is probably over at this point.  
  
“I’m sorry I kissed you.”  
  
Louis’ head snaps up. “What?”  
  
“Two years ago. Maybe if I hadn’t, you would have never…“  
  
He’s cut off by Louis’ watery, mirthless laugh. “You still don’t get it, do you?”  
  
Harry’s brow furrows, lips turned down at the corners. A beat passes before he speaks again.  
  
“How long?”  
  
Louis lets a shaky sigh go, his words soft, resigned and tired. “I don’t know, Harry. Since we were bloody kids…”  
  
Harry’s breath hitches but he doesn’t speak. Louis bites his lip until it hurts.  
  
“Please say something,” he whispers. Harry opens his mouth only to close it again. Louis shifts forward, hand reaching out, “Harry, _please_.”  
  
Harry balks at his touch, shifting his body backwards. Louis drops his hand like he’s been stung.  
  
“There's someone waiting for me…I- I'm sorry…” He shakes his head as if to clear it, “I don’t think I can do this. I just. I need to go,” he rasps out. “Please don't stop me…”  
  
Louis sways backwards on his feet, mouth gaping slightly as Harry hastily grabs his things and walks out the door like he can’t get away fast enough.

Louis can’t move, breathing shallow and unsteady. He thinks if he concentrates hard enough he might be able to see the pieces of himself he just dropped all over the floor.  
  
He walks to his bed numbly, slumps down onto it and tries not to cry. A part of him wants to laugh at how he could have possibly believed, for even a second, that he deserved for things to go his way after what he did, the way he treated the only person he's ever really loved outside of his family. He treated Harry like dirt, let his friends do the same. So how did he possibly think he could have something this good? When he's been such a  _coward_ , and Harry's never been anything but brave?  
  
He ends up crying anyway.

  
  
 _ **Essex, England | 8 months ago**_  
  
“You wanted to see me, coach?”  
  
“Tomlinson, yes. Please, come in.” Louis complies and shuts the door of the small office behind him. Coach Cowell whirls around in his chair, and before Louis can even ask what he wants, there’s a paper being shoved in his hands.  
  
“That’s a scout list. For Priestly,” his coach says before he can ask.  
  
“Priestly.”  
  
“Yes. We’ll be recruiting for next season in a few months. And I want your opinions.”  
  
“You want me to tell you who to scout?”  
  
Coach Cowell chuckles. “Not exactly. Just narrow it down. Give us some talent to keep an eye on? Here,” he hands Louis a red pen, “Leave it in my box when you’re done, yeah?”  
  
Louis manages to nod before he leaves. He sits on the couch outside his coach’s office, eyes scanning the paper. He doesn’t want to have to come all the way back up here later so he figures he should just get this over with now.  
  
As his eyes float down the list he sees some names he doesn’t recognize, others he remembers only vaguely. No one sticks out though. Names get mixed up with faces in his head and he’s about to just write ‘ _sorry_ ’ in the margin and leave the paper in the box on the door. But then he sees it. A name. It surprises him, the way it makes his insides flip.  
  
 **Harry Styles – Senior (F)**  
  
Louis blanches. His hand shakes as his pen hovers over the paper. He doesn’t know why he does it. It feels foreboding somehow, like he’s either made the hugest mistake of his life or… Well, he doesn’t really know what. He drops the paper and the pen in the box quickly after that, grabs his bag and leaves as fast as he can, before the bright red circle of ink on the paper can even dry.

 

  
 _ **Essex, England | Present**_  
  
Louis wakes abruptly in the hotel room some hours later. It’s dark outside now, and he realizes that he’s still alone. He wipes at his eyes, tries to stall his brain from thinking for a few minutes longer. It all rushes back quickly though, his heart aching all over again. Harry’s still not back. Louis looks at the clock and starts when he realizes there’s only a few minutes before curfew check. He bounds up from the bed. Before he’s even to the door, he can hear Paul down the hall knocking on a door, muffled speech and then another knock as he makes his way down the line toward Louis’ room. Louis panics. Harry is obviously not here and if he gets caught they’re all screwed. So Louis thinks fast, rushing into the bathroom and turning the shower on full blast, flipping all the lights on and shutting the door. It’s just in time too, Paul knocking on his door only seconds later. Louis’ heart skips. He waits a few moments before answering.  
  
“Harry’s in the shower,” he blurts as soon as he opens the door, and then mentally kicks himself. He’s usually aces at deceiving authority but he’s not exactly awake right now. If Paul is suspicious he doesn’t show it, though.

He nods. “Lights out in an hour. See you tomorrow.”

Louis rests his head against the door when his coach leaves and exhales slowly. It takes him a minute to realize he’s left the shower running for no one. He turns it off and slips back into bed. Even though he just slept he still feels exhausted, like he could sleep for days if someone let him. He mostly wants to go back to sleep so he doesn’t have to think though. So he turns all the lights out and lies there, hoping if he concentrates on nothing, he’ll be out again soon.  
  
He thinks he feels it, edging at his senses about a half hour later, because when the hotel room door creaks open he only barely hears it, thinks maybe he’s imagined it. The sound of it clicking shut is louder though and Louis sits up quickly. He’s halfway out of the bed when he sees Harry in the opening of the room, just standing there. It’s dark but he can make him out clearly.  
  
He stands. “Harry…”  
  
“Just shut up,” he says softly, and Louis snaps his mouth closed.  
  
Harry walks toward him slowly and Louis’ heart beats violently in his chest.  
  
"I have a good thing.” He says it softly, no trace of anger in his voice. “He’s good for me…I need someone who’s good for me."  
  
"Please stop,” Louis begs.  
  
“But it’s never gonna work. It’s never gonna be enough.”  
  
“Harry…”  
  
“Do you know why?”  
  
Louis shakes his head.  
  
“Because he’s not you. They never are…”  
  
Louis holds his breath, mouth parting, Harry’s eyes holding him in place.  
  
"Are you gonna push me away?"  
  
Louis sucks in a sharp breath, shakes his head desperately, "No."  
  
Harry surges forward then, grasping the back of Louis’ head and claiming his mouth roughly. Louis takes him in instantly, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair and pulling him in even closer. Harry pushes his tongue into Louis’ mouth, taking and taking and taking until Louis is dizzy with it, heart soaring. When their mouths separate Louis goes straight to Harry’s neck and he groans, face sliding against Louis’ hair. Louis pushes his weight back until he’s pulling Harry with him onto the bed.  
  
“I can’t stand it,” Louis is breathless beneath him, hands fisting against his back, “I don't want anyone else touching you.”  
  
Harry growls then, grabbing Louis’ wrists tightly and pushing them down on the mattress on either side of his head.

"I hurt someone tonight..." he breathes tightly, guilt swimming in his dark eyes.  
  
“Because of me,” Louis declares. Harry nods, jaw clenched defiantly. Louis tries to move his wrists but Harry doesn’t let up.  
  
“I’m sorry that someone got hurt. I’m sorry you hurt. But I’m not sorry for this.” He leans up to kiss Harry again softly. “I know it’s selfish, but I don’t think I can be away from you anymore…”  
  
Harry kisses him roughly then, hands leaving his wrists to twist in his hair, pulling just this side of too rough.  
  
“I'm scared to do this. I'm fucking terrified,” he breathes against Louis’ mouth.  
  
Louis kisses him gently a few more times. “I am too. But being scared…all it’s done is keep me away from you. Please just stay with me, okay? I promise. I-“  
  
Harry kisses him to quiet him, and Louis hopes it means he doesn’t plan on going anywhere.  
  
Louis doesn’t know how long they lay there kissing before Harry’s so tired he’s only lazily mouthing at his skin. Louis maneuvers them until Harry’s lying beside him with his face pressed against Louis’ throat.  
  
“We still need to talk about this,” he mumbles sleepily.  
  
“I know. But sleep now,” he mumbles into the top of Harry’s head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”


	8. Chapter 8

Louis wakes up first, eyes dragging open slowly against the dull light pouring in through the thin curtains of the hotel room. He whimpers softly, mind still chasing his dream from last night. His brain is fuzzy though and all he can grasp are quick flashes of intense heat, of big hands gripping into him roughly, of lips and teeth and tongue and the feeling of being on fire.  
  
He blinks his eyes a few times, willing himself to wake up. His brain slowly starts to work and a brief flash of panic runs through him. It’s not until he tries to move that he fully registers the warm body lined up next to his; a long, muscled arm curled loosely across his stomach and warm breath ghosting over his collarbone. His memories from last night suddenly rush to the front of his brain: He and Harry fighting and then not fighting, but kissing. Harry had come back. He had come back and kissed him until he was too tired to keep going and Louis can remember everything. The way Harry felt and smelled and tasted, the rough sound of his voice in Louis’ ear, exhilarated and terrified all in one breath.  
  
Louis’ skin prickles with heat as long fingers unconsciously graze over his flesh. He vaguely feels Harry’s curls tickling his chin as the younger boy moves in his sleep, nails scraping lightly on Louis’ stomach as he readjusts. Louis bites his lip and his smile reaches his eyes because this is how he knows it was all real, that this actually happened and Harry is really here with him right now. He thinks if someone let him, he wouldn’t move from this spot for the rest of the day. His bladder has other plans though.  
  
He does his best to maneuver out from underneath Harry without waking him up. Louis can tell from the low light in the room that it must still be ridiculously early. He ambles to the bathroom quietly and takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth. He feels unusually well rested, last night the first night he’s really slept decently in weeks. He dries off and slips on a pair of briefs and some loose sweatpants. He checks his phone to see the time and realizes they still have several hours to stay in, their game not scheduled until mid-afternoon.  
  
When he gets back to bed, Harry has moved onto his side of the mattress. Louis smirks and goes to the other side, crawling in beside him. Harry is lying on his back, face blank and serene in his sleep. Louis figures it might be a while yet before he wakes up. Louis isn’t tired anymore, but the idea of doing anything other than lying here next to Harry while he sleeps seems too taxing. He watches the way Harry’s bare chest rises and falls. He must have removed his shirt sometime during the night after they fell asleep. Louis studies the pale skin there, takes in all the changes of Harry’s body that he hasn’t been close enough to really notice before. He’s allowed to look now, he remembers, and he finds that he  _wants_  to with no reservations this time. It’s frightening, how quickly things shifted. But maybe that’s what being honest does to a person. Louis suddenly wants to feel every inch of Harry’s skin to see if it’s as smooth as it looks. And even though Harry let him snog him senseless last night, he’s still unsure where their boundaries, transient and constantly shifting, are now.  
  
Louis doesn’t know how far he’s allowed to go and he felt so much braver last night in an almost pitch black room. He doesn’t know what he's allowed to do, so he just watches his own hand as it falls into the shallow dip of Harry's waist and rests there tentatively. Harry doesn’t stir. Louis then lets his fingers drag slowly across Harry’s ribcage, back and forth. His skin is warm and soft and when Louis' eyes flit back to his face, his heart skips when he sees that Harry’s eyes have opened.  
  
Louis halts his movements, pulls his hand away and tucks it between them on the mattress. Harry only stares at him for a moment, eyes half-lidded and Louis can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. Louis chews into his bottom lip and Harry’s eyes darken slightly. Louis then feels fingers reach down to grip onto his hand and haul it back up to its previous spot. Louis’ eyes flicker to where Harry is still grasping his hand and then to his mouth, and at the same time his hand clasps back around Harry’s waist, he leans down to connect his mouth to Harry’s.  
  
Harry groans softly and his fingers tangle at the nape of Louis’ neck instantly. Louis’ hand drags absentmindedly over Harry’s waist and stomach, travels up until it’s clasping his jaw in place, pulling down to open Harry’s mouth and deepen the kiss. Harry lets him for a second before pulling away.  
  
Louis pouts as Harry mumbles that he’ll be right back before kissing him chastely once more. He heads for the bathroom and Louis flops back on the mattress and buries his face in Harry’s pillow to hide his smile. He hears the shower turn on then and he closes his eyes, wills his body to calm down. He’d kissed Harry for all of thirty seconds and he’s already having to concentrate on breathing evenly. This is all so new, like nothing he’s ever felt before and it’s scary and exciting all at once. He resists the urge to pinch himself every few minutes to make sure this is still real and not a dream.  
  
He didn’t realize how disconnected he felt until just now. For months he’d just been floating, struggling to care about anything at all but things somehow feel more aligned now, like something has clicked into place inside him.  
  
When Harry finally comes back to bed, a pair of loose shorts hanging low on his hips and drops of water still clinging to his pale skin, Louis struggles to remember what he’d been so afraid of. Because all he wants to do right now it touch every inch of Harry’s skin and never stop.  
  
Harry looks slightly unsure for a moment before he slips back into bed. Louis moves over to give him room and props up on one elbow to peer down at him, lets his other hand fall back to his mid-section as if they’d never left their previous position at all. Harry’s breath hitches slightly.  
  
“Still tired?” Louis murmurs.  
  
Harry shakes his head slowly. Their eyes lock and the air is suddenly charged again. Harry lifts his hand to enclose around Louis’ on his stomach and just as the distance closes between them, Louis’ phone rings shrilly from the night table.  
  
Louis curses under his breath, half from surprise and half because he recognizes the ringtone. Harry grabs the phone and hands it to him after a second.  
  
“He, Li, what’s up? …Uh huh…Yeah. No, thanks….” He glances down at Harry, who’s trying to pretend he’s not listening, “I think I’m gonna stay in. M’bit tired. Alright, see you.” He hangs up then and tosses the phone down the length of the mattress. Harry bites his lip, staring up at Louis unsurely.  
  
“Liam wanted us to go to breakfast.…You’re not hungry, are you?”  
  
The corner of Harry’s mouth turns up slightly and he doesn’t answer, just pulls Louis down by the neck and licks into his mouth.  
  
They don’t do much else for the rest of the morning.

  
000

  
When Louis wakes up for the second time, it’s noon and Harry is gently jostling him from behind.  
  
“Come on, wake up. I’m hungry.”  
  
Louis attempts to roll away and sleep some more, but Harry is insistent.  
  
Louis groans petulantly, “You know we don’t have to leave this room until at least two, right?”  
  
“Yeah, but if you want me to play even half-way decently today, I need to be fed.” Harry’s stomach growls then as if to punctuate his statement, “Besides, is this what we’re going to do from now on? Just stay in and sleep all day?”  
  
Louis rolls over to look up at Harry and laughs, “Hey, we did more than sleep…”  
  
Harry blushes then, eyes falling to the mattress. Louis watches him curiously, smile still lingering.

He sighs, “Okay, what do you want to eat?”  
  
Harry perks up then, “I don’t care. I could eat a horse right now.”  
  
Louis levels his expression into a completely serious one, “Is that how you became a giant?”  
  
Harry’s eyes widen slightly. “I’m not a  _giant_ ,” he squawks.  
  
Louis laughs, “Except you are, kind of. You grew like two feet since college.”  
  
Harry snorts, “If exaggeration were an Olympic sport…”  
  
Louis pinches him playfully.  
  
“Maybe you just got shorter…”  
  
“Oi!” Louis digs his fingers into Harry’s side then, causing the other boy to bark a loud laugh and try to squirm away. Louis chases him until he’s got him pinned, fingers poking into his side.  
  
“Stop, stop, I’m sorry! Okay!”  
  
“Take it back,” Louis laughs, face hovering over Harry’s.  
  
“Take what back? Ah! Okay, okay!” he laughs, “You’re not short.”  
  
“You’re just a giant…” Louis adds, fingers still poised over Harry’s ribs.  
  
Harry raises his jaw defiantly, “I’m  _tall_.”  
  
Louis shoots him a pointed look which Harry ignores, reaching up to pinch Louis’ cheek playfully before shuffling out from underneath him. Louis only watches him as he stretches his long body and begins pulling on a t-shirt.  
  
“Are you coming or not?”

  
000

  
By the time they manage to get dressed and fed, it’s time for them to head to the bus. Louis sits by Harry before he can even really think about it. The look Harry shoots him is unreadable then. Louis glances around at the rest of his teammates, most of which are paying him no attention whatsoever. He catches Liam and Zayn’s eyes a few rows back without meaning to and their returned expressions are identically confused. Louis turns away from them quickly. He looks back to Harry but he’s looking out the window now, hand slipped beneath his own thigh.  
  
Louis rests his head on the back of the seat and puts his headphones in. He suddenly feels that familiar tension sitting on the edges of his brain, waiting to spill back in. He’d almost forgotten how crippling it felt. He’d just been so happy this morning, like he could finally breathe for the first time in weeks and he didn’t think about what it was going to be like when he got back to the world outside of that room.  
  
He and Harry hadn’t exactly talked about this like Louis had promised they would. And as gratifying as it was to spend the morning snogging Harry into the mattress, Louis suddenly wishes he could go back and maybe slip in a conversation somewhere in between all the sleeping and heated kissing.  
  
He never thought not knowing what to do with his hands would feel this frustrating.  
  
Up until two years ago, he’d always been tactile with Harry. Back when they were only just friends, Louis can't remember ever hesitating to break that boundary of personal space. They used to touch whenever and however they wanted with little care about what anyone else thought. But now when he touches Harry, there's  _intent_. Intent he definitely can't pretend isn't there anymore.  
  
So when Harry scores a goal towards the middle of the match, Louis burns with how badly he wants to swoop in and wrap him up in celebration and tell him how fucking amazing he is. He _can’t_  though. He can only watch and try not to hate Niall as the blonde boy does what he can’t. And even though Harry catches his eyes down the pitch and smiles, it’s  _not_   _enough_.  
  
Somehow this was all so much easier in the safety of the hotel room, hidden away where no one could see or judge him for wanting the things he wants. Now that they're outside, exposed to the curious eyes of all their friends and teammates, Louis feels like he might choke on his nerves.  
  
Now, even when he so much as looks Harry’s way all he can think is  _they_   _know_ , that his friends can see right through him, right down to the very core of him where all of his desires are, laid out for them to judge.  
  
When the game ends and they’re heading back to the locker rooms to change, Harry eyes him worriedly every few minutes, but makes no move other than that. Louis decides all he really wants is to reach out and hold Harry's hand but he  _can't_  and he figures that's all the other boy could really think to offer right now anyway and so now they're stuck here. Together, but not.  
  
Louis suddenly feels stupid for ever thinking this was going to be easy.  
  
It’s just. Harry makes things feel that way - possible. Like if you want something badly enough the only logical thing to do is try to take it. He’s brave though and he wants to be happy and he’s unapologetic about it. He makes Louis feel like that when they’re together.  
  
In that moment, Louis wonders how being with Harry feels like the easiest and yet the hardest thing he’s ever done.  
  
“You lads coming to dinner with us or are you going to dip out again?” Louis freezes when he hears Niall’s voice behind him on the bus ride back to the hotel. He sat beside Harry again so he knows Niall is addressing the both of them.  
  
“I, uh, I was really tired last night... Sorry, Nialler,” he mumbles, trying to think of a quick excuse for how to get out of their plans tonight without looking like a complete dick.  
  
“Sure. Where are we going?” Harry asks, and he even manages to sound like he genuinely wants to know.  
  
Louis’ heart drops a little. He sneaks a glance at Harry but he’s busy looking at Niall between the seats. Louis can only half-way pay attention as they solidify their plans to go eat as the bus pulls up to the hotel. He’d been expecting to simply go back to their room and spend the rest of the night just… Louis doesn’t really know what. He just knows he feels anxious right now and the way he felt earlier that morning, well, he wants that feeling back as soon as he can have it. When he finally manages to catch Harry’s attention, he’s met with only a weak smile.

  
000

  
Dinner is just as frustrating as Louis thought it would be. They all walk down the road to a small diner that Niall swears has the best ice cream he’s ever had in his life but Louis doubts it.  
  
The sitting arrangement is awkward, Niall squeezing into the outer seat in the booth beside Zayn and Liam, leaving Louis to sit next to Harry on the opposite side. It isn’t that things are really tense or anything, Niall’s jabber more than filling the awkward silence, but Louis has a hard time staying still with Harry so close to him. He loves hanging out with his friends usually, and the other night in Niall’s room with Harry there hadn’t even been that awkward until the end. But after last night and this morning, Louis realizes he doesn’t know how to be around Harry in public anymore. It was easier before, when they mutually steered clear of one another or agreed to at least try and be civil in public, but now, knowing what they’ve done or  _could_  be doing instead of sitting here helping Niall make a french fry castle, yeah, Louis is frustrated.  
  
His fingers twitch around his napkin, wanting to reach over and touch whatever part of Harry he can reach first. He’s not too alarmed about that though, the feeling not entirely foreign to him. Even when they were just friends Louis was always reaching out to touch Harry like it came second nature to him. But he wants to  _touch_  him now, and laugh at the things he says without feeling exposed, wants for Zayn’s eyes to stop burning a hole through him because Harry is picking food off his plate and Louis’ acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. These are all things they did when they were friends and Louis feels stupid for thinking he could just segue back into that dynamic without Zayn of all people noticing it.  
  
When dinner is over, Louis trails behind during the walk back to the hotel. He keeps a sizable distance between himself and Liam and Zayn, which seems to deter them from descending in on him with the third degree. He watches Niall talk Harry’s ear off a few paces ahead. Harry glances back at him every few minutes but Louis pretends not to notice.  
  
When they’re finally in the hotel lift and the doors ding shut, it’s just the five of them cramped together like sardines. Niall is the only one who says anything, seemingly oblivious to the awkward tension (or maybe Louis is the only one who notices that). Liam and Zayn are quiet, too busy staring Louis down to contribute to Niall’s one-man conversation. Or, well, at least Zayn is. Liam at least has the decency to pretend he has tact. Louis purposely avoids Zayn’s intense staring. He really can’t deal with this right now. He knows that his friends can sense that something is up, the fact that he sat next to Harry three times now as if nothing was ever amiss between them had surely been the thing to tip them off. Louis prides himself on his ability to ignore things when he doesn’t want to deal with them though, so his friends’ curiosities will have to wait.  
  
“So,” Niall says when they’re in the hallway, “Grimshaw bootlegged the new batman movie. I heard it’s sick. You lads coming?”  
  
Niall addresses all of them, but somehow only looks right at Louis, who squirms a little under his gaze.  
  
Louis tries not to glance at Harry before he answers, “Uh, I’m actually really tired. I think I might turn in early. I’ll watch it with you when we get back home, yeah?”  
  
This seems to placate the Irish boy, who nods and gives Louis a fist bump before Louis turns to walk back to his and Harry’s room. He doesn’t look back to see what Harry decides to do. He honestly expects him to go watch the movie, seemingly keen on spending quality time with Louis’ friends. When he gets to the room, he immediately changes into a pair of loose pajama pants. Before he can pull a shirt on, he hears the door open and shut behind him. He snaps his head up to see Harry standing in the doorway, hands buried in his pockets. Louis must give him some kind of inquisitive look because he just shrugs slightly after a moment.  
  
Louis clears his throat, “You could have stayed and watched the movie. I really am just tired.” He goes back to sifting through his suitcase, not really looking for anything, but rather trying to keep his hands busy.  
  
“I didn’t want to,” he hears Harry mutter. Louis doesn’t acknowledge it, just continues pulling clothes out of his bag only to put them back in again.  
  
Within seconds he feels Harry move in behind him, his hand gently gripping into his hip as his head knocks lightly into the back of Louis’, “S’wrong?”  
  
Louis lets a ragged breath go, his whole body heating up. He turns in Harry’s arms slowly, locking eyes with him. He expects Harry to maybe kiss him then, but he doesn’t.  
  
“Nothing…,” Louis murmurs.  
  
Harry swallows audibly, fingers flexing on Louis’ waist before it drops and he starts to turn away. Louis grunts, slotting his hand around Harry’s arm to pull him back around, “Wait.”  
  
“So something is wrong?”  
  
It takes several seconds, but Louis finally nods his acquiescence, “I just- Things were so…amazing this morning.” Harry smiles weakly, moving back in to cup Louis’ hip, “But you’ve just…seemed weird since we left for the game.”  
  
Harry shakes his head quickly, “Only because I thought you felt weird. I saw you freak out on the bus when we sat together. I just…didn’t know what was going on.”  
  
“No,” Louis shakes his head firmly, “I wasn’t freaking out.”  
  
Harry levels him with a slightly dubious look. Louis runs his fingers through his hair and sighs.  
  
“Not in the way you think. I just… We should have…"  
  
“Talked about this?”  
  
Louis laughs lightly, “Yeah. I suppose so. As fun as this morning was.”  
  
Harry blushes, fingers gripping into Louis’ skin a little more tightly.  
  
“I wasn’t really hungry earlier.” Louis admits.  
  
Harry breathes deeply, “Yeah, me either.”  
  
Louis can’t help but laugh lightly, tilting his head down to briefly rest on Harry’s shoulder, “Then why did you invite us to dinner?”  
  
“Because,” Harry breathes, trying to concentrate as Louis pulls back only slightly until his face is hovering inches from his, “It’s uh, important to make friends…”  
  
“We have friends...” Louis whispers, inching closer.  
  
Harry clears his throat, “Well we should try to… you know…do friend-like things...with them.”  
  
“You’re not making any sense…”  
  
Harry laughs breathily, “It’s kind of to hard right now.”  
  
“Okay,” Louis breathes, “Well now that we’ve done friend-like things with our friends...Is it okay if I kiss you?”  
  
Harry’s breath hitches.

“You don’t have to ask,” he whispers, leaning forward the last few inches to close the distance between them. Louis grasps his neck, pulling him the rest of the way in. Like the rest of their kisses today, this one is no exception, starting slow and languid and quickly escalating into something more chaotic. Louis forgets what they were even talking about a second ago as he walks them backwards to the bed. They fall onto it somewhat ungracefully, causing Harry to laugh against his mouth. He goes to break the kiss then but Louis persists.

  
“We…still need to…talk,” Harry says breathlessly between Louis’ unrelenting attacks on his mouth.  
  
“Mmm,” is all Louis manages to respond with. He knows Harry’s right, but he finally has his happy feeling back and stopping seems counterproductive to his over all state of well-being, so.  
  
“M’serious,” Harry continues, breaking their mouths apart with a tiny smack.  
  
Louis frowns, “Do you not want to?”  
  
Harry almost growls in frustration, dropping his head to Louis’ shoulder underneath him, “Yes. I do. So much, you have no idea. But I’m trying- I’m trying to be smart.”  
  
Louis nudges him until he’s looking at him again, “Smart about what?”  
  
Harry sighs, rolling over until he’s on his back beside Louis, “I just…don’t want to move too fast and freak you out.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“This is all new for you, you know?”  
  
Louis scoots up on the bed to rest his head on a pillow. Harry follows, lying down beside him.  
  
“Only in some ways,” Louis says, trying to reassure Harry that, yes, he wants this, even though he’s scared as fuck, he knows he still wants this.  
  
“Yeah, important ways,” Harry counters softly, and he’s looking at Louis in that way that reminds Louis how delicate this all is, “We still need to talk, Lou. Really talk. …Why did you freak out earlier?”  
  
Louis groans, “I  _didn’t freak out_.”  
  
“Okay,” Harry concedes, “You didn’t freak out. But it was. Weird...off. Was it me being around your friends or something?”  
  
Louis snorts, because of all things, Harry’s worried about that.  
  
“They’re your friends too now, Haz. And besides, I’m pretty sure they like you better than me now, anyway.” Harry swats him playfully on the chest, “No, I’m serious. I think I saw Niall drawing up adoption papers in his room the other night.” Harry can’t help but laugh then, bright and startling and exactly how Louis remembers.  
  
Louis turns his head so he’s face to face with the other boy, “It’s like you don’t even try and they just love you.”  
  
Harry only smiles softly at him and shrugs.  
  
"And I know how they operate, so i’m gonna have to warn you. They're going to try to steal you,” Harry laughs, “but I’ve known you since you were eleven. So, I'm pretty sure you were mine first."  
  
Harry blushes then, smiles so wide his dimples appear. Louis can only stare at him, take it in. Harry’s smile drops a little a few seconds later and the mood grows serious again.  
  
Louis sighs, “It wasn’t you, I promise. I guess… I guess I just don’t know how to be with you around them now. I’m pretty sure Zayn still thinks we hate each other.”  
  
Harry frowns then, reaching up to lay his palm flat on Louis’ chest, “We should have talked about this. I’m sorry we didn’t. I wasn’t thinking.”  
  
“Harry,” Louis laughs lightly, “It wasn’t your fault we spent all morning…not talking.” He laughs some more but Harry is still frowning.  
  
“I know. But, I should have known better. What happened tonight, I don’t want that to ever happen again.”  
  
“Well,” Louis smiles, bringing his hand down to Harry’s waist and circling there, “We  _could_  just ditch the lads for a while, get this out of our systems…”  
  
“No,” Harry says and it’s almost too sharp, too quick. Louis sits back a bit, a little stunned.  
  
“Shit. No, I just mean,” he sighs deeply, “Lou, things can't go back to the way they were before.”  
  
Louis’ brows crease, “What are you talking about?”  
  
Harry sighs, sitting up on the bed and turning until he’s facing Louis, “You were right before. It fucking hurt to hear it, but you were right.”  
  
Louis sits up until his back is against the headboard, heart thudding painfully in his chest, “Harry, what are you talking about?”  
  
Harry shakes his head, “We  _weren't_  normal. I didn't see that until after-”  
  
“Harry, I didn't mean  _any_  of that,” Louis cuts him off, alarms going off in his head.  
  
Harry’s mouth snaps shut then. He looks down at the mattress, “Yeah, well. I still think you were right.”  
  
“Harry…”  
  
Harry’s head snaps up, tone firmer now, “Louis, for years my whole world revolved around you. I didn't realize how much until you were gone...” Something pinches inside Louis’ chest then, “It sucked but…at least it made me see some things about myself.”  
  
“What _things...?_ ” Louis says the word distastefully, hating the idea that Harry thinks anything is wrong with him on account of Louis.  
  
Harry pauses for a minute before answering, “Like…how easy it is to lose myself when it comes to you.” Louis’ heart skips, “It’s  _too_  easy...feels like I don't have any control.”  
  
Later, Louis will wonder if this is what love does to a person.  
  
“So… We can’t just close everyone else out,” he continues, “no matter how much I want to right now. This is still hard for me…doing this with you. We were only friends before and I still made everything about you. And when you left it almost killed me.”  
  
Louis breathes deeply then, guilt overwhelming him, “Harry…”  
  
“Don’t,” Harry shakes his head, “I’m- I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m just trying to explain.”  
  
Louis can only nod then, drop his eyes to the mattress because he can’t look at Harry directly right now. It’s not like he’d never thought about it, what him leaving did to Harry, but he never thought it was this. How could he possibly think he could do this much damage to another person and get away with it? He reaches out to pull Harry’s hand into his because there’s nothing else to offer him at this point. And he needs to validate that Harry is still actually here with him, giving him another chance even though he doesn’t deserve one.  
  
“So, how do you…see us now? What are we?” Harry murmurs.  
  
Louis mouth falls open, “I- I don’t know. Are we- I don’t-“  
  
Harry squeezes his hand, “Hey, it’s okay. There’s no pressure. I was just curious. Just trying to figure out where your head’s at.”  
  
Louis nods, squeezing back, “I don’t want to ignore you around the boys and, like, pretend we’re still fighting. But I don’t think I’m ready to…”  
  
“That’s okay,” Harry reassures, “Maybe you can just…tell them we’re friends again? I mean, it’s not a lie.” Louis nods his head gently, grazing the back of Harry’s fingers with his thumb.  
  
Harry continues, “Look, I know a lot’s happened. But this- I don’t want to mess this up. So if we have to go slow, then...”  
  
“It’s okay?” Louis finishes.  
  
Harry nods firmly, “Yeah.”  
  
Louis lets a deep breath go, “C’mere” he whispers, pulling Harry forward until they're lying parallel again. He wraps his arms around Harry and buries his head underneath his on the mattress. Harry hugs him back but he’s still tense, holding back.  
  
“Come on, Haz,” Louis whispers into his ear and almost instantly he feels Harry’s grip intensify until there’s not an inch of space between them. Harry buries his face in Louis neck and shoulder, arms squeezing him so tight Louis feels his entire body pulse gently with it.


	9. Chapter 9

Louis is in the middle of brushing his teeth the next morning when he hears it; a loud, booming crack of thunder accompanied by howling wind and rain beating against the window. Almost as soon as he walks back into the room, a flash of lightening bursts across the sky. His eyebrows furrow as he clicks the tv on to check the weather. Apparently there’s some kind of massive storm moving over Leeds that’s supposed to continue pretty much all day. Louis picks his mobile up from the bed and checks the time, the clouds too dark outside to make an accurate guess. He glances over to the bed when he hears Harry mumble groggily as another clap of thunder sounds.  
  
“What time is it?” His voice is rough, thick with sleep.  
  
“Half past eight.”  
  
“Jesus, Lou,” he wipes at his eyes, “How do you get up so early?”  
  
Louis laughs lightly. “It’s not that early.”  
  
Harry only grunts and makes his way out of the bed. Louis hears the bathroom door open from where he’s digging around in his suitcase to pull on fresh clothes. Since they’ve both been sleeping in Louis’ bed, Harry’s has become a designated wardrobe of sorts, their suitcases laid on top of it with clothes strewn about haphazardly. Louis thinks half of his things are probably mixed in with Harry’s by now. He doesn’t feel like sorting it out, so he pulls on the first clean shirt he can reach. It’s white and a little big on him but he shrugs, too lazy to change. He pads over to the bathroom and slips into the half-way open door. Harry glances at him through the mirror as he cleans his teeth.  
  
Another loud smack of thunder reverberates through the room and Louis shivers a bit.

He moves in behind Harry and places his hands on the boy's bare sides, letting them roam around the flat of his belly slowly. Harry sways back into him and Louis presses his mouth against Harry's upper back once before tucking his head on Harry's shoulder. Louis isn’t sure where they stand with this yet – touching just to touch. Sometimes he isn’t sure how far he should push but he can’t always help himself. But Harry doesn’t shy away, only bites his cheeks to keep from smiling. Louis relaxes.  
  
"Hey, that's mine!" Louis squawks, gesturing to the opened tube of toothpaste on the counter. Harry only smirks at him shamelessly in the mirror, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. He leans down to wash his mouth out and when he straightens, Louis can only stare with hooded eyes at how red and wet his lips are.

He dips his head to swipe his lips against the skin connecting Harry’s neck and shoulder. Harry leans back into him, turning his face into Louis’ hair. Louis’ teeth graze against Harry’s throat and Harry groans softly, turning around completely then and walking Louis into the wall behind them.  
  
Louis lets Harry control the pace, quick and then slow, agonizing. He moves to Louis’ neck, sucking gently but hard enough that it will probably leave a mark. Louis can’t find the will to care. He looks at their reflections in the mirror, the sight of Harry’s body almost completely covering his, muscles moving in his back as he twists and dips to mouth at Louis’ skin.

Louis’ almost overwhelmed by it, the way his hands look tangled in Harry’s hair and sliding down his back. He looks until he can’t anymore, until Harry is dragging him away, pulling his face back to kiss his mouth again.  
  
After a few minutes, Harry breaks the kiss briefly, head dipping down between their bodies, “Is this mine…?” His hands are fisting into Louis’ shirt. He looks up then and Louis only smirks.  
  
“I can take it off if you want.” But Harry’s blushing and shaking his head fast, lips connecting with Louis’ again swiftly. Louis laughs breathily against his mouth, letting himself be pulled back in.  
  
A loud, energetic knock sounds on the door then and their lips part with a smack. Louis curses under his breath, leaning his head back against the wall. Harry moves away, turning toward the sink, and Louis would like to say he misses the way the boy has to adjust himself in his shorts, but he definitely doesn’t. The warmth that slides into his belly because of it is slightly unexpected though.  
  
“I’ll be right back,” he mumbles before heading for the door, silently plotting the demise of whoever is behind it. When he opens the door he’s met with a smiling Irish boy.  
  
He tries to smile. “Morning, Ni.”  
  
“Mornin’ Tommo.” He whips out several small slips of paper then and dangles them in front of Louis’ face. Louis steps back a little to try and read them.  
  
“Two-for-one sundaes…” Louis mumbles to himself.  
  
“You can thank me later.”  
  
“What is this?” Louis asks, taking the slips from Niall.  
  
“Coupons. Mary slipped them to me last night,” he answers simply, looking proud.  
  
“Who’s Mary?”  
  
Niall looks exasperated then. “Diner Mary! Don’t you remember?”  
  
Louis vaguely remembers some older woman slipping Niall an extra piece of pie last night at dinner. He can only assume this is who Niall is referring to.  
  
“Uh, oh yeah, sure….Thanks?”  
  
“Welcome,” he smiles proudly, “I’ve got a ton more in my room. We should go get breakfast there!”  
  
“Now?”  
  
“Yeah, games been cancelled. Didn’t you know?”  
  
Louis glances back through the room and out the window. Yep, still a torrential downpour, “No, but I figured…”  
  
“Yeah. Well, get dressed. I’m starved.”  
  
Louis looks down at himself, “I am dressed.”  
  
Niall eyes him dubiously then, “Really? That shirt is like, massive on you…”  
  
Louis blushes to his ears, “No it’s not. And, I’m actually not that hungry right now…”  
  
“No,” Niall whines, “Come on. If I have to spend one more minute with my roommate I’m going to commit me’self.”  
  
Louis laughs lightly, “Is Grimshaw not entertaining you?”  
  
Niall levels him with a blank stare, “It’s like talking to wallpaper, mate. I’m ready for this week to be over so we can get back to our own flat. Is Harry in there?”  
  
Louis steps forward then so he’s blocking the doorway without being too obvious about it, “Um, yeah, bathroom. Where are Li and Zayn?”  
  
Niall rolls his eyes, “Sleeping. Or, I don’t know. I knocked and no one answered. You look…weird right now. Why are you so sweaty?”  
  
Louis blanches, “Uh, I’m- I’m not sweaty…M’just tired. Do you think I can take a rain check on breakfast? Think i'm just gonna stay in, catch some more sleep, yeah?"  
  
Niall looks slightly crestfallen then, but mostly just pouty, and Louis feels guilty, he does, but the image of Harry flushed and pliant against him is still burned into the forefront of his brain.  
  
"Right, right. Well, what about Harry?" He motions toward the bathroom door, "Hey, Haz-"  
  
"He's not feeling well actually," Louis blurts.  
  
Niall's brow creases, "Really? He seemed fine last night."  
  
Louis shuffles, "Yeah, um, it just happened early this morning. He was complaining about a headache and like," he motions to his own stomach, "cramps or something."  
  
Niall raises an eyebrow and looks uncertain but eventually shrugs, "Alright mate, well take it easy. Call me later, we can go to lunch. Tell Haz I hope he feels better."  
  
Louis smiles, "Sure thing. Come get me later and we’ll use these, yeah?" He waves the coupons and Niall smiles brightly then.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Sure thing,” he calls from down the hall.  
  
Louis shuts the door then and before he can knock on the bathroom door it swings open. Harry walks out, toweling water off his face. Louis smiles and chews his lip.  
  
"Niall wanted to know if we wanted to go eat. I, uh, I kinda got us off until lunch...”  
  
Harry doesn’t respond for a minute before nodding gently.

“What do you suggest we do until then?” he says lowly, moving in closer.  
  
Louis’ insides swoop. “I, uh, I don’t know,” he reaches out to cup Harry’s hipbone, just above the waistband of his shorts, “I wouldn’t mind continuing what we were doing five minutes ago…” He bites his lip nervously.  
  
Harry smiles slowly and leans in. Louis starts when Harry moves at the last second to kiss his cheek, "I think I'm just going to lie down for a bit actually."  
  
Louis frowns but Harry continues, "I think I feel my period coming on. Been having terrible cramps lately, haven't I?"  
  
" _What_?" Louis laughs, a disturbed look blooming on his face but Harry is grinning from ear to ear and Louis' eyes finally light up with recognition. He laughs and pushes Harry on the chest.  
  
"Oh, shut up. It's early. I couldn't think of anything else," he defends, blushing and they're both smiling like idiots. Louis' falters after a moment, wondering if Harry actually wanted to stay in or not. He remembers they just talked about not ditching their friends.  
  
"Wait. Did you- Do you want to go? We can if you want. Or you can. I didn't mean to-"  
  
Harry cuts him off by pushing him into the wall and kissing him hard. Louis sighs against his mouth. The air is charged again as they fall seamlessly into one another. It’s almost muscle memory now, Louis thinks. He’s kissed Harry so much these past two days he wonders when he’ll get sick of it, when it will stop feeling like he’s making up for lost time every time they do this.  
  
He lets Harry walk them to the bed slowly, stumbling only a little before they collapse down onto it. Then Harry’s hands are everywhere at once. Louis groans as they grip into his skin, alternating between gentle and rough. He can't get enough of how big they are, how much skin Harry can cover, burn, with a single swipe. And the length of his fingers and how they press into his waist. The first thing Louis can properly think is that this is nothing like being with a girl. He doesn't think his heart has ever beat this fast before.  
  
Harry kisses him with his whole body it feels like. When Harry's tongue plunges into his mouth Louis feels it in his chest, his bones, the tips of his fingers and toes - like a hum of electricity. And he doesn’t know how he ever went without this.  
  
Harry's hands are in his hair, trying not to pull but he's hungry and Louis can feel it. And the younger boy may not know it but Louis is hungry too. The way Harry touches him, like it's never quite enough, is making his head spin and he doesn't want to stop whatever this is in any way.  
  
Harry rolls them from their sides until he's half on top of Louis, mouths only separating for a moment before Harry's back on him, licking past his slightly parted lips. Louis vaguely registers that Harry's hands aren't moving below his waist, instead just awkwardly gripping his shoulders and sometimes his chest, but very deliberately not going any further. Louis' brows furrow. He hadn't realized how much he wants them too until just now.  
  
Louis groans into Harry's mouth and grabs the back of his neck to keep him still while he grips Harry by the hip to try and align their bodies.  
  
But Harry goes rigid then, head snapping back from Louis' like he's been bitten. He sits up on his knees immediately so their lower halves aren't touching but it's too late because Louis definitely felt it. He grabs Louis by the wrists and holds his hands against the mattress forcefully. Louis' heart skips a beat.  
  
"Okay. Let's just- Let's just slow down a bit, yeah?" His breath is labored, head bowed as he hovers over Louis. 

 _Oh_.  _He wants to stop_. Louis tries to even his expression out, hide the twist of disappointment there.  
  
"What's wrong?" He tries to sound nonchalant and not at all like the total desperately turned on freak he feels like. Harry sighs raggedly and lets go of Louis' wrists as he collapses onto his back on the bed. He bends the leg facing Louis and Louis can’t help but smirk to himself.  
  
Harry talks to the ceiling, desperately trying to catch his breath, "Look, I know you're not... I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything you don't want to..."  
  
Louis’ heart is hammering in his chest when he turns his head to look at Harry. "You think I don't want to?"  
  
Harry meets his gaze after a moment, soft confusion in his eyes. "Do you?” he swallows.  
  
Louis blushes and shrugs slightly, his body is practically screaming  _yes_  though.  
  
“I mean…Do you know how?"  
  
Louis drops his gaze, feels embarrassed then, even though he knows Harry only meant it in the most genuine way. Louis doesn’t know all of what he’s referring to, but regardless, he has no experience with anyone other than girls, so if he told Harry yes it’d be a lie. He shrugs again, suddenly so nervous he can hardly think straight.  
  
“You could… show me… if you want?” His voice is small and unsure and his insides are doing so many summersaults he thinks he might be sick. He looks back up at Harry then, who’s biting his lip, eyes hooded. Louis watches, stark still as Harry turns on his side and places his hand on Louis’ chest. Louis shivers.  
  
Harry brings his lips to Louis’ ear then, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”  
  
Louis nods and turns his face into Harry’s gently. He feels Harry’s hand start to slowly slide lower and lower on his chest, his belly, over the waistband of his shorts.  
  
And then he’s  _there_.  
  
Louis struggles to breathe as Harry palms him softly through the thin fabric. And oh god, he thinks his heart might be in danger of beating out of his chest now.  
  
“Alright?” Harry asks against his ear.  
  
“Fuck,” Louis breathes lowly, the heat and pressure of Harry's hand overwhelming, “Yeah.”  
  
Harry brings his hand up and ghosts his fingertips just beneath the waistband of Louis’ shorts, “Can I…?”  
  
Louis nods fervently, head dizzy, and a second later he sees Harry lick his own hand before feeling it slip beneath the edge of his shorts, down until he’s gripping Louis’ hardness firmly. Louis makes a choked noise in the back of his throat, eyes shutting instantly at the sensation. Harry breathes steadily against his ear as he pumps Louis slowly. And it isn’t like Louis’ never had a handjob before but this is  _Harry_  and the way he’s making Louis’ insides feel like chaos with just his hand is maddening.

Louis whimpers softly when Harry pushes his shorts down more until he’s free of them and twists his hand in a particularly delicious way. His pace quickens then, grip tightening on every upstroke. Harry's breath is steady and warm against his ear, and he could be talking Louis through it but Louis can't hear anything over the buzzing in his brain.  
  
Through his half-lidded eyes, Louis peers down his body and somehow, feeling and seeing at the same time what Harry’s doing to him is enough to push him to the edge. His stomach tightens and he feels himself explode. Harry keeps pumping him, taking him through it. Louis drops his head back to the mattress, eyes glassy and breathing labored. He stares at the ceiling, trying to gather himself. Harry releases him and rests his hand on Louis’ stomach gently.  
  
After catching his breath somewhat, Louis turns his head so he’s face to face with Harry. Harry’s eyes are closed but he opens them after a few seconds. He looks almost shy, a little unsure even. Louis smiles slowly to reassure him. And then Harry blushes and he smiles back and Louis laughs, still high from his release and Harry can’t help but laugh with him.  
  
“That was…”  
  
“Amazing,” Louis finishes, leaning forward to kiss Harry’s mouth chastely. Harry hums in agreement before gripping into Louis’ stomach once and pushing himself up on the bed. Louis watches him grab several tissues from the night table, turn back toward him and start wiping his mid section down. Louis watches, transfixed as Harry cleans his come off of him like it’s nothing out of the ordinary, like they’ve been doing this their whole lives. Then he pulls Louis’ shorts back up, settles back down against Louis’ side, wraps an arm around him and nuzzles his face against the curve of his neck. And that’s the end of it.  
  
“Wait,” he catches Harry’s attention, “What about you?” Harry only shakes his head lightly.  
  
“It’s fine,” he promises against Louis’ hair, “We’ve got time, yeah?”  
  
Louis pulls Harry closer, arm closing around his back, “Yeah. We’ve got time…And I want to,” he adds, because he doesn’t want Harry to question that.  
  
“Okay.” He can practically hear Harry smile.  
  
A few minutes later a small roll of thunder interrupts the silence they’ve settled into. Harry shuffles against him. A few more cracks sound consecutively and Louis can hear the rain beating against the window pane. He shivers and flexes his leg, stretching it.  
  
He used to love thunderstorms, even when he was a kid, but the tingling ache in his knee that crops up whenever it rains now has managed to put him off of them. A deep ache has settled beneath his kneecap and he should probably get up and fetch some paracetamol but he doesn’t want to move.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Harry mumbles when Louis can’t stop fidgeting.  
  
Louis sighs, frustrated, “It’s nothing. Just my knee.”  
  
“Your knee? What about your knee?” Harry picks his head up from Louis’ neck, studying Louis' face before glancing down the bed. Louis fidgets again.  
  
“It’s not a big deal. Whenever it rains, it swells. Just hurts a bit, that’s all.”  
  
Harry’s brows pinch. He sits up and shifts until he’s down by Louis’ legs.

“This one?” he asks, laying his hand on Louis’ left knee gently.  
  
Louis shakes his head, “Other one,” he mumbles. Harry looks at him once and then turns to the knee in question, gently wrapping his palm around it.  
  
“It’s not bad really. Just ever since-“  
  
“You got in an accident,” Harry cuts him off softly. It’s not a question. Harry’s thumb finds the scar, traces over it in awe - a faded semi-circle running along the underside of Louis’ bone.  
  
Louis swallows, “Yeah…earlier this summer. Got hit pretty good at a crossroads.”  
  
Harry winces, “Louis…”  
  
He laughs lightly, “I’m fine Haz…good as new. I promise. It wasn’t even a big deal.” He tries to sound unbothered.  
  
Harry levels him with a disbelieving stare, his fingers still idly stroking the puckered scar.  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, “Okay, I had a bit of a concussion. And, obviously, my knee split in half.” Harry wrinkles his nose and worries his lips, “But honestly, it was nothing. You should see my car; took most of the damage. Miracle really. The doctors said they didn’t know how I walked away from it the way I did.” He laughs lightly, like it’s funny now, to think about it. Harry isn’t laughing though.  
  
“That’s not funny,” he reprimands softly. He looks up at Louis then, who frowns back slightly.  
  
“I know. I’m sorry.”  
  
Harry doesn’t respond immediately, but eventually, “Were you scared?”  
  
Louis sighs, “What do you want me to say, Harry? I guess, yeah… It happened really fast and I was alone and...It's dumb, really, when I think about it now. It's not like I thought I was going to die or anything…” He doesn’t look at Harry, facing the window instead. A few moments pass before he feels Harry take his hand, squeezing gently.  
  
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers.  
  
Louis squeezes back.

 

  
000

  
  
Louis texts Niall first to make up for blowing him off earlier and they all go to lunch when the rain manages to die down to only a light drizzle. They walk in near silence and Louis sticks close to Harry’s side while Niall chats happily about all the ice cream he’s going to eat. He catches Liam and Zayn staring a few times but mostly ignores it in favor of catching Harry smile out of the corner of his eye as their hands brush from time to time.  
  
Lunch is considerably better than dinner the night before. Louis sits by Harry, laughs when he says something funny and knocks their knees together under the table when no one is paying attention. He still can’t reach out and hold his hand, or kiss him just because, but…it’s okay. It’s better.  
  
“God, I can’t wait to go home tomorrow,” Niall groans around a mouthful of ice cream.  
  
“Yeah, us either,” Liam says and Zayn stays silent in the seat next to him for a moment before nodding gently.  
  
“I bet you are too, Lou. You hate hotels,” Niall continues, spoon scraping the bottom of his dessert.  
  
He almost misses Harry glancing at him from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t, however, miss the gentle press of knuckles into his knee, a thumb tapping faintly over his thigh. Louis tries to ignore the twist in his chest.  
  
“I don’t hate hotels…” he starts, but Liam and Zayn are watching him then, far too intently for Louis’ liking, “They’re not that bad…”  
  
Zayn’s eyes flicker between him and Harry for the rest of lunch and he makes no secret of it. Louis doesn’t meet his eyes once.  
  
When they’re back at the hotel, he can’t ignore it any longer. Literally. Before he can make it back to the room, Zayn is tapping on his arm, “Hey, can I talk to you?”  
  
Louis watches Niall and Liam escape to their respective rooms. He catches Harry’s gaze down the hall, the boy looking confused for a second before evening his expression out and entering their room alone.  
  
Louis turns to Zayn then, “Um, can it wait? I’m kind of tired.”  
  
“It’s 2:30…” Zayn says blankly.  
  
Louis bristles a little then, “Yeah, well, my knee’s fucking killing me, alright? So whatever it is, can it just wait?”  
  
“No, it can’t,” Zayn shakes his head, “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” He gestures down the hall where Harry is no longer standing but he might as well have been.  
  
Louis shakes his head, “Nothing to tell.”  
  
Zayn levels him with a stare that can only be described as  _do you think i’m fucking stupid?_  
  
Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair, “It’s not a big deal, okay? Don’t make it one.”  
  
“What? Are you guys like… friends again or something?”  
  
“Yeah,” Louis answers quickly, exasperated, “We’re friends.”  
  
Zayn huffs a disbelieving laugh, “So…you just squashed whatever it was? Just like that?”  
  
Louis shrugs, answers shortly, “Yeah, guess so.”  
  
Zayn eyes him carefully, tongue tucked between his teeth, “Yeah, alright. Just don’t forget the rest of us exist, yeah?”  
  
Louis eyes narrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“You know what it means. You’ve been checked out for days,” he shrugs, lips pulled down in a frown, “I just don't get it. You two hate each other then all of sudden you’re roommates for a week and now you’re suddenly right back where you left off at Priestly. He’s got you-“  
  
“ _He hasn’t done anything_ ,” Louis bites, cutting Zayn off, “You don’t know the first thing about him.”  
  
And maybe it’s stupid. Careless. But the distaste in Zayn’s expression makes Louis’ insides burn, makes him angrier than he thought possible. He doesn’t wait for Zayn to respond, not caring what he has to say.  
  
He turns and walks unwaveringly back to his room, the only place he has any desire to be right now.  
  
Back to Harry.


	10. Chapter 10

They don't talk about what going back means. The last night in their hotel room is spent in near silence, actually; the only sound ever breaking the air little breathy moans as Louis lets Harry's fingers burn into his skin over and over. They don't talk about lunch, or Zayn, or the fact that tomorrow they'll be back at school, back to the life they had before  _this_.  
  
Louis thinks about what it might mean, going back, but he's so tired of talking. And besides, the way Harry's hands curl around him and make him see stars is enough to steal any words he might have thought to say straight from his head.

  
000

  
  
Louis mostly sleeps on the bus ride back to Essex, head lolling on Harry's shoulder. If anyone thinks anything of it, they don't say anything. Harry wakes him gently when they're at their stop.  
  
"We're here." Louis acknowledges him with a hum and stands up slowly, stretches.  
  
"You look knackered," Harry comments as they pile off the bus and grab their bags from the back.  
  
Louis smiles tiredly, "Didn't get much sleep last night."  
  
Harry bites back his response until the majority of the team has scattered back to their flats, until he and Louis are under the shadowy alcove by Harry's door. He bites into his cheek around a smile, "Sorry about that."  
  
Louis' eyes flicker down Harry's body and then around them, checking for people. When he sees no one, he leans in until his mouth is next to Harry's ear.  
  
"I'm not," he whispers and he thinks he can feel Harry shiver.  
  
Louis pulls back and Harry clears his throat, smiling to himself, "Right. Well, I guess this is... I guess I'll see you later...maybe?"  
  
Louis cocks his head to the side, smiling curiously, "Well, obviously."  
  
Harry visibly relaxes and lets a breath go then, almost like he was maybe expecting for Louis to say something else. He nods and Louis frowns. Did Harry really think this thing between them would stop once they got back to school? That Louis wouldn't want it anymore? Louis tries to search his tired brain for anything he might have said or done to make the other boy think that. He comes up short.  
  
The idea that this thing between them might only be temporary, the way that even the thought of it makes Louis' insides twist, startles him. Before he can think, he reaches out to gather Harry's hand in his. Harry looks around for anyone that might see because Louis apparently forgets he has to do that every time they touch like this.  
  
He squeezes once before letting go, "Text me, okay? We'll figure something out."  
  
Harry nods quickly and hikes his bag further up his shoulder, reaching back to turn the knob to his door. He pauses though, eyes darting around in every direction before coming back to Louis and before Louis can figure out what's happening, Harry is leaning forward to peck him quickly on the mouth. Louis sways, a little stunned but before he can even think to say anything, Harry has turned around and gone inside.  
  
Louis tries to hold his smile in all the way back to his flat, keeping his head ducked down. When he's finally home, he leans against the inside of the door and grins from ear to ear.  
  
"What are you smiling about?" Niall appears from out of nowhere, a half a ham sandwich hanging from his mouth.  
  
Louis shakes his head, evens his expression out, "Nothing."  
  
Niall shrugs, offering Louis a bite of his sandwich. Louis tries not to look too disgusted as he declines.  
  
"Party in the city tonight. Wanna go?" Niall asks around a mouthful of food.  
  
Louis throws his bag onto the couch before sitting on it himself, "I'm actually really tired. Why don't we stay in instead?"  
  
He expects Niall might get that kicked-puppy look he's adopted every time Louis turns his invitations down lately, but he only shrugs, seemingly content with Louis' counter offer.  
  
"I'm actually a bit knackered me'self, now that you mention it." He plops down beside Louis, "What do you want to watch?"  
  
"You pick."  
  
Niall looks excited then, getting up to rummage through their joint DVD collection, a kid on christmas. When he's back and the opening credits of Terminator 2 are floating through the room, he turns to Louis and smiles, "I'm glad we're home again. I missed you, Tommo."  
  
Louis laughs and ruffles Niall's hair affectionately, "I missed you too, Ni."  
  
000  
  
Louis tosses repeatedly in his bed. He doesn't know if it's the multiple small naps he took today or something else, but he can't sleep. He feels tired enough, like maybe he could, but no matter which way he turns he can't get comfortable. He flips onto his back and huffs, glances over at his mobile on the night table. He'd kept it by him during the movie with Niall, tried to ignore the anxious feeling in his chest when Harry hadn't texted. He'd also ignored the odd feeling he'd felt when he opened the door to his bedroom and seen the empty bed, his bed, waiting for him. He'd slid in anyway, onto a mattress that smelled only like him and no one else, cold from disuse.  
  
He grunts, frustrated. He'd only shared a bed with Harry for a few days and now suddenly he can't sleep on his own? His mind floats back to when he and Harry were in secondary school and they'd sometimes sleep in each other's beds. It occurred quite a bit now that Louis thinks back on it. It wasn't weird, just how they were. Back when they were friends. Louis can admit he usually hogged most of the bed, the covers, the pillows. Harry had never seemed to mind that much. Louis also remembers wondering what it might be like to reach out and touch the other boy's skin in the dark, but that thought seems a little clearer now than before.  
  
He wonders what Harry is doing, if he's sleeping or if he went out. Maybe he went out. He would have told Louis that though, right? Or would he even have to? Louis shakes his head, suddenly confused. He realizes he really doesn't know what he and Harry are. Are they dating? They've never even been on a date. They've done decidedly more intimate things than going on a date though, but Louis knows the two aren't always mutually inclusive.  
  
It's giving him a headache, thinking about it. So he thinks of Harry's hands instead. About how big they are and about how good they felt on his skin, on  _him_. He closes his eyes and slips his hand down to rest on his lower stomach, stroking there until his skin is warm and buzzing underneath. He thinks of Harry's long fingers, the way they curled around him and made him feel dizzy and warm so, so good.  
  
He reaches down to palm himself through his joggers and chokes off a breathy moan in his throat. He's reaching out for his phone on the night table then, almost knocking it off in his haste. He squints as the bright light of the display nearly blinds him in the darkness. He finds Harry's number quickly. His thumb hovers over the call button before he gives up on that and sends a text instead.  
  
 ** _are you asleep?_**  
  
 _Lou?_  
  
Louis knits his brows together and punches out another message.  
  
 ** _yeah, expecting someone else?_**  
  
 _no_  
  
He gets back almost immediately and then,  
  
 _surprised youre up right now_  
  
Louis groans softly to himself because Harry doesn't know the half of it. He tries to ignore his urge to keep touching himself, quickly typing out another message.  
  
 ** _i want to see you_**  
  
It takes too many seconds for Harry to respond and Louis fidgets, giving in and sliding the heel of his palm against his hardening flesh. When his phone finally beeps he pulls it up from his chest quickly.  
  
 _u sure thats a good idea?_  
  
Louis' heart drops a little.  
  
 ** _dont really care if it is or not x_**  
  
 _i think josh is asleep_  
  
Louis doesn't bother with a response, sitting up and pulling on the first t-shirt he can find in his still unpacked suitcase, taking the unspoken invitation. He tiptoes through the living room even though he's pretty sure Niall is dead to the world. His building is two over from Harry's and he has to cross a small lawn area to get to it. He looks around every few seconds for any of his teammates. It's after midnight but also Friday and he's certain those of them who went out will be stumbling home soon. He isn't doing anything too incriminating, he reminds himself, but he'd rather not have to explain why he's traipsing across the complex in pajamas at this hour.  
  
When he makes it to Harry's door, he pulls his phone out to text him.  
  
 ** _outside x_**  
  
He never receives a response, but it doesn't matter because the door opens about thirty seconds later. Harry looks mildly surprised but mostly happy when Louis sees him. He pulls Louis, who's just standing there, in by his arm and they quickly make it to Harry's room as quietly as they can manage. Louis stays leaned against the door as Harry takes a seat back on his bed. Louis registers that the boy hadn't bothered to put anything on other than his briefs. His mouth suddenly feels dry.  
  
The moonlight shining in through the window bathes Harry in a blue light where he sits, the blinds of his window casting warped bars of black across his pale skin. He's fisting his hands into the sheets lightly, looking like he isn't sure what to do next. Louis locks the door behind him before pushing off of it quietly and coming to stand in front of Harry. He feels a sense of dejavu sweeps over him as he recalls initiation night a few weeks ago, where he came into this room with Niall and tied a scrap of cloth around Harry's eyes while Harry could barely look at him. That night feels like a lifetime away now. The way Harry is looking at him now is decidedly different, but also kind of the same. He still looks unsure, a little weary, like Louis might disappear at any moment. Louis can practically feel the uncertainty radiating from him. He wants to grab and shake Harry during times like now, tell him how stupidly amazing he is and that Louis' is in so much deeper than he realizes but all he can do is reach out and slide his fingers through Harry's hair, gently tilt his head back until Harry's mouth falls open.  
  
Harry reaches out to hold Louis by his hips. He tugs him forward but Louis holds himself steady long enough to remove his shirt before letting himself be pulled down. Harry somehow rotates them until Louis is underneath, back falling flat against the warm mattress. He smells the faint scent of Harry's cologne in the sheets and breathes deeply before grabbing Harry's face and bringing his mouth to his. They kiss interrupted for several minutes and the sounds of their heavy breathing and gasps for air seem magnified in Louis' ears. Louis can feel Harry's hardness against his thigh, so close to his own and his whole body prickles with want. He finds he's reaching his hand down Harry's stomach but before he can even get to the waistband of his briefs Harry starts above him.  
  
"Is this...." Harry gasps against his mouth, "I'm sorry, just."  
  
Louis stops kissing him then, pulling his hand away and lying back enough to let him speak, "What's wrong?"  
  
Harry swallows, breathes deeply, "Nothing. I just. Is this just...about..."  
  
"About what?" Louis pushes, eyes flitting across Harry's face.  
  
Harry levels him with a serious stare then, "What we're doing, is it...is it just about, you know, sex?"  
  
Louis' eyes widen, "What?"  
  
"I just mean- I don't..."  
  
"Harry."  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry ducks his head, "I just need to know."  
  
Louis cocks his head to the side and tilts Harry's face up until he's looking at him.  
  
"You really think that?" Louis asks in a small voice.  
  
Harry only shrugs, "I don't- I don't always know what to think."  
  
Louis cups his jaw and threads his fingers into the hair at the back of Harry's neck and looks straight into his eyes.  
  
"It's not..." he whispers, "just about sex. I couldn't sleep. I guess... I didn't realize how hard coming back here would be."  
  
The corner of Harry's mouth turns up a little and he nods a little in agreement.  
  
"We don't have to do anything," Louis continues, "I honestly just wanted to see you."  
  
Harry bites his lip and shakes his head, laughing a little, "So you come all the way over here and wind me up..."  
  
Louis swats his arm, "Well, I was trying to take care of that before I was rudely interrupted..."  
  
Harry swallows then, "You don't have to do that."  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, "I know I don't. But would it really surprise you if I said I wanted to?"  
  
"I- You do?"  
  
Louis trails his hand down Harry's back above him until he reaches the band of his briefs. He blushes and nods.  
  
Harry's mouth parts slightly and his eyes go dark. He nods a little and Louis takes that as his cue to roll them over until Harry's on his back. Louis kisses him once before sitting up and moving down the mattress. He literally has zero experience with this so he'd like to see what he's doing here. A part of him is terrified. He has no idea where to start, how to make someone else feel good like this. He moves down the mattress until he's between Harry's splayed thighs and Harry only watches him silently from where his head is resting on the pillow, the light from the moon directly on his face.  
  
"You just might have to talk me through it," Louis mumbles, fingers teasing the expanse of skin where Harry's briefs rest on his stomach. He can feel the muscles there contract beneath them. Harry nods gently, a combination of anticipation and uncertainty in his eyes. He doesn't say anything yet though, so Louis reaches for the hem of his briefs and starts pulling them down before he can chicken out. When Harry's cock meets the air they both inhale sharply. Louis leaves Harry's briefs around the tops of his thighs and after that, he doesn't know what to do with his hands. All he can do is take in the sight of Harry, hard and hovering only inches away, and gulp audibly.  
  
"It’s not like you haven’t seen me before," Harry murmurs quietly when Louis' gone too long without moving or speaking. Louis looks up at him then.  
  
“Yeah…" he starts, "But not like…I’ve never seen you like this," he trails off, awed.  
  
Harry reaches for Louis' hand, which is resting taut against Harry's hipbone, and brings it to his hardness because he can somehow read that that's the push Louis needs.  
  
And then Louis' hand is on him, gripping around him gently. Harry's cock twitches in his hand almost immediately and it sends tiny shock waves through Louis' chest.  
  
"Just...like you'd touch yourself," he instructs through bated breath and Louis nods, gulping and moves his hand experimentally up and down Harry's shaft once. Harry makes little breathy noises and Louis can only listen because he can't stop watching the way Harry's cock looks, hard and thick inside his fist. Louis gathers the wetness at Harry's head and brings it back down the length of him.  
  
"I was, you know," he breathes, looking up at Harry's face, "before I texted you."  
  
Harry groans and fists the sheets, head falling back and eyes closing.  
  
"What were you thinking about?" he gasps, forcing his eyes back open. Louis starts pumping his fist a little faster.  
  
"You," he answers without missing a beat.  
  
Harry muscles in his lower stomach suddenly contract, "Yeah, like that. Yeah."  
  
Louis tries to repeat the movement he wasn't aware he made. His eyes leave Harry's face and go back to where he's jerking him off, concentrating as his fingers glide and grip on the almost unyielding flesh, warm and throbbing in his hand. Louis glances up and the look on Harry's face makes him pump his hand faster, suddenly desperate to see him fall apart. Harry whines low in the back of his throat and Louis' heart skips.  
  
"I'm gonna..."  
  
Louis doesn't say anything, just moves his hand faster, trying to mimic what Harry's done to him before to push him over the edge. It works. Seconds later Harry is arching slightly off the mattress and Louis can't tear his eyes away as Harry comes hard all over his hand. It's a lot, covering Louis' fingers, running down them as Louis holds onto him.  
  
"Fu-uck," Harry whines, convulsing slightly for several more seconds as he rides his orgasm out. Louis only releases his grip when Harry taps his hand lightly.  
  
"Oh, right. Sorry." But Harry simply smiles, satiated.  
  
Louis holds his hand up then and wrinkles his nose.  
  
Harry turns his face into the pillow and snorts, "There's...in the bathroom."  
  
"Yeah. Right. Okay," Louis murmurs. He moves from between Harry's lax thigs, holding his hand away from himself as he walks to the bathroom tucked into the corner of the room. He washes up and comes back with a damp flannel for Harry, who takes it gratefully and cleans himself off.  
  
Harry insists on taking care of Louis too, even when Louis tells him he doesn't have to. Something about bringing Harry off had satisfied Louis in a way he didn't really understand. But when Harry's hand wrapped around him, any further insistence had died on his lips.  
  
When they're both too tired to move, Louis curls against Harry's side and tucks his face against his neck.  
  
"Can I stay?" he whispers.  
  
Harry just pulls the sheet over them and holds Louis closer.

  
000

  
Perhaps they should've thought this through better. Louis slipping out of Harry's flat unnoticed the next morning had been a challenge to say the least. Neither of them had set any kind of alarm, so by the time they'd actually woken, Harry's flatmate Josh was up and about. Louis thinks climbing out of Harry's window and nearly face-planting in the sticker bushes beneath it had been one of his least dignified moments in a while. But he imagines it could have been a lot worse. Harry had laughed at him with sleepy eyes, arm keeping the window propped open as Louis slid out. Louis had barely resisted the urge to lean back through and kiss the amusement off his face.  
  
They try to be more careful after that, but it proves difficult. Their time together is fleeting, sporadic, and it feels utterly chaotic sometimes. There's never a plan, and other than at night, there's no concrete time that they know is just for them. It gets tiring after a while, never being able to see Harry during the day. Or seeing him, but not being able to look for too long, reach out and touch him like he's grown used to doing when they're alone. Somehow, Louis never thought it would be this difficult to have a secret relationship, but he's quickly finding out how unprepared he was.  
  
He tries to behave normally, stick close to his friends at practice and school as if nothing is amiss and he wouldn't rather be somewhere else. He knows he's only ever half-way there at the best of times, though. And he's sure he's not the only one that notices. It doesn't help that Harry is somewhat acclimated into the group now by way of Niall, who can't seem to get enough of him. He's around quite a lot these days, dragged along by the Irish boy, dangled in front of Louis like a treasure he can't touch, has to pretend he doesn't want.  
  
After a week or so, Niall insists on a movie marathon and he doesn't take no for an answer when he tells Liam, Zayn and Louis that they're coming.  
  
"You should invite Hazza, too," He chirps over a spoonful of peanut butter the afternoon of.  
  
Louis pauses on the couch then where he'd been mundanely flipping through the channels. He eyes Niall carefully, "Me?"  
  
Niall only shrugs, "Yeah. You two are friends now, aren't you?"  
  
Louis' eyes fall to the remote, voice a mumble, "Uh, yeah. Yeah, we're friends."  
  
"Yeah," he bobs his head, "I knew something was different."  
  
"Different?" Louis' head snaps up, "What do you mean?"  
  
"Oh," Niall licks his spoon clean, "Just that you two seemed at odds before Leeds, is all."  
  
Louis' features pinch, an uncomfortable heat settling in his chest.  
  
"I mean, you kind of attacked each other on the pitch that day, remember?" he says slowly, "Bit out of nowhere."  
  
"Oh," Louis shifts in his seat, "Yeah, that- That wasn't anything. Just a misunderstanding..."  
  
Niall lifts his eyebrows but nods, "Right, well, you should invite him."  
  
Louis cocks his head to the side and bites off the smirk turning up the corner of his lips, "You really like him, don't you?"  
  
Niall laughs, "He's fucking hilarious, mate. You should hear him in Politics. He's a riot, I'm tellin' you."  
  
Louis' chest swells with something like pride and he nods and promises he'll call before returning to his channel flipping.

  
000

  
Liam and Zayn don't look spectacularly surprised when Harry arrives at Niall and Louis' flat about five minutes after they do. Zayn doesn't even bother giving Louis his usual pointed look, obviously still put out over their fight in Leeds. They aren't  _not_  talking, exactly, but Zayn's been noticeably cool toward him since the incident. Louis doesn't lament over it, because he's treating Zayn the same way he supposes.  
  
There's a familiar tension in the room that Louis is pretty sure Niall is still the only oblivious party to, so he starts the movie earlier than planned so they can at least have some kind of excuse for the lack of easy conversation.  
  
Liam and Zayn take the oversized lounge chair in the corner while Niall stuffs himself between Louis and Harry on the couch. Louis is annoyed, but also a little thankful. He doesn't know how well he'd fare sitting that close to Harry in a dark room and not being able to do anything about it. They sneak glances at each other from behind Niall's head throughout the film, stifling their amusement when the Irish boy gets particularly involved with his commentary.  
  
Louis looks over to Liam and Zayn about halfway through the movie, noticing the way Zayn's head has fallen to Liam's shoulder. It's oddly intimate, Louis thinks and it reminds him of how he and Harry used to be when they were younger. He's spent so much time training himself to not touch Harry in public that he forgets that he  _could_  and no one might think anything of it. Friends were allowed to touch. He could lean over and put his head on Harry's shoulder and it would be perfectly plausible that it might just be innocent. It's not like anyone could accuse him of anything, at least. Maybe.  
  
He groans inwardly, angry with himself. He can't help but know that if he'd never run away and ruined his and Harry's friendship, they wouldn't be in this position now.  
  
Louis still hasn't talked about where he and Harry exactly stand now to his friends (his blow-up with Zayn not really counting in his opinion). Obviously, they know they're on speaking terms again. But Louis knows they'd find it weird if he just suddenly started treating Harry the way Zayn treats Liam. They'd notice and they'd ask questions. Questions that Louis hasn't thought up lies for yet to answer with. So for now, he has to be content with sending Harry wayward glances and cautiously sliding their hands together under tables when know one's looking.  
  
The movie drags on forever, and when it's finally over, Louis has to disguise his rather loud sigh of relief with a small coughing fit. Harry side eyes him, lips tugging into an amused smirk.  
  
"Best movie ever!" Niall wails, oblivious, "Right, Hazza?"  
  
"Absolutely," Harry plays along, "Will Ferrell was robbed by the academy, he was."  
  
" _Right_?" Louis adds, same playfully mocking tone and laughs when Niall shakes his head, looking a little seriously upset over it.  
  
Louis laughs and Harry beams at him, and Liam even cracks a smile. Zayn doesn't even manage to pretend to look anything other than annoyed, though. Louis levels him with a disapproving look but he doesn't seem to care.  
  
Harry clears his throat awkwardly as the mood settles back into that strangely tense one that's always lingering when they're all together lately. Niall bounds up, unbothered, from the couch and into the kitchen. Louis eyes the bowl of popcorn he demolished during the movie, nothing but uncooked kernals left at the bottom, and shakes his head.  
  
"Someone pop the next one in!," Niall calls over a mouthful of crisps.  
  
Louis thinks he can vaguely hear someone groan but he isn't sure who. For all he knows, it could have been him.  
  
Zayn looks over to where Harry and Louis are sitting, eyes slightly narrowed and Louis can feel himself ready to snap.  
  
Harry clears his throat again, "I've got to run actually," he mumbles. Louis turns away from Zayn then, leveling Harry with a look.  
  
"You don't have to," he says lowly.  
  
Harry shakes his head, giving Louis a small, but reassuring smile, "I've got a paper actually."  
  
"Fucking hell," Niall calls from the kitchen, "Is that due tomorrow?"  
  
Harry snorts and nods his head, "I take it someone hasn't started?"  
  
Niall only groans in response, shoving more crisps into his mouth, "Way to ruin movie night, Hazza. See if I invite you back now."  
  
Louis doesn't miss Zayn's soft snort from the chair. If Harry hears he chooses not to acknowledge it. He shrugs at Niall, mock-apologetic, "Sorry, sorry."  
  
He glances back at Louis then, who gives him a small knowing smile, as he walks toward the door, "Well, i'm off then. Night, lads."  
  
Niall waves over his shoulder and Liam shouts, "Bye, Harry!" which earns him a reproachful look from Zayn.  
  
"What?" he asks when Harry's out of earshot. Zayn looks like he's about to answer when Louis interjects.  
  
"Yeah, what? What the hell is your problem?" Zayn's eyes fly to his them, mouth slightly open for a moment, "He's gone now," Louis tacks on, "So you can start talking again."  
  
Zayn breathes deeply, nostrils flaring a bit, "Excuse me for being a bit fucking confused here."  
  
"Fuck's sake, Malik. Are you still on this? Why are you making an issue out of nothing?"  
  
"I'm not trying to make an issue out of nothing. I just don't understand."  
  
" _What_  is there to understand? I told you already. We're friends again. Why is that so hard for you to accept?"  
  
Zayn just shakes his head, laughing humorlessly.  
  
"So, you two fixed things then?" Liam's soft question momentarily slices through Louis' rising anger.  
  
Louis' eyes fall to his and he nods slowly, "Does that bother anyone?"  
  
Niall joins them again in the living room, "No. Should it?"  
  
"No, it's great, Lou. Really. Harry's great," Liam adds.  
  
Zayn grunts from beside Liam, "Okay, well, all i'm saying is that you two," he points to Liam and Niall, "didn't know them when we were at Priestly, alright?"  
  
Louis narrows his eyes, "Yeah...they aren't the only ones."  
  
Zayn cocks his head to the side, "You're right, Lou, I didn't know you. You know why? Because you and  _Harry_  were stuck so far up each other's  _arses_  that you wouldn't even talk to anyone else, much less try to be friends with them. All I know is, when he stopped following you around like a lost dog, you actually gave other people the time of day."  
  
Louis' nostrils flare, "Oh, like you? Are you that jealous of my friendship with him? Bit ridiculous mate, don't you think?"  
  
"I'm not jealous of him!"  
  
"Oh, alright, so you just hate him for no reason, then?"  
  
"I don't hate him!" Zayn protests fiercely, "I don't have anything against the kid!"  
  
Louis scoffs, "Oh, bullshit, Zayn. You've never liked Harry. You never gave a shit about him."  
  
And it's the truth. Zayn had always been completely indifferent to Harry growing up in Holmes Chapel, and he'd be the first to admit it. Harry had never seemed very bothered by it, different strokes and all that. And Louis was never really that close with Zayn so it had never been a thing really. But Zayn had been particularly present whenever Louis had shut Harry out two years ago, the devil on his shoulder so-to-speak. And just as he'd never gone out of his way to be nice to Harry before that, he most certainly hadn't after the fact. Part of Louis is still angry at Zayn for that, even though he knows he has no right to be.  
  
"Whatever. I don't have a problem with him. Believe me or not. All I can tell you is what I see, yeah? Ever since you patched things up, you don't even give us, your best mates, the time of day. It just doesn't seem like a coincidence is all."  
  
"Wait," Louis laughs, sitting further on the edge of the couch, "You think he's like, trying to keep me away from you guys?" Zayn doesn't say anything and Louis wants to laugh at how wrong he is about that.  
  
"Has it occurred to you that if maybe you weren't such a passive aggressive prick whenever he was around, I wouldn't feel the need to keep you separate all the time?"  
  
Zayn just stares at him evenly, breathing intensely, "I'm so sick of this..." he mutters.  
  
"Then accept the fact that he isn't going anywhere," Louis shakes his head and stands up, shrugs, "Maybe the problem's yours mate. You ever think of that?"  
  
Liam and Niall are silent where they sit, awkwardly watching the floor. Zayn doesn't say anything and Louis doesn't care, turning heel to walk to his room and shut the door. He's getting really tired of defending himself. To say he's got a list of his own issues to deal with is the understatement of the fucking century, and he doesn't need Zayn's petty hang-ups added to that. He sits on his bed against the wall and pulls his mobile out. He's mid-sentence into a text to Harry when he hears a soft knock at his door.  
  
"Open," he calls half-heartedly, expecting either Liam or Niall to come trotting in trying to make peace. When he lifts his eyes to see Zayn instead, he's more than a little surprised.  
  
"What do you want?" he asks lowly, eyes falling back to the text he's now mostly just continuing to type out for appearances.  
  
Zayn clears his throat, "Can I talk to you?"  
  
"Just did that, didn't we."  
  
Zayn sighs, moving closer so he's standing directly across from where Louis' sitting, "Come on, Louis. I don't want to fight anymore, okay?"  
  
"Well, what's there left to say?"  
  
Zayn shrugs, eyes lifting from an invisible spot on the bed, "That you were right."  
  
"I'm sorry, what?"  
  
"You were right," he repeats reluctantly.  
  
"About you being jealous?"  
  
" _About it being my problem_. I wasn't jealous. It's just, you were like...my first proper best mate, you know? And I guess I just never felt like I was yours, even after."  
  
Louis studies him for a moment, head tilting in consideration, "Thats-" he starts, "Okay. Yeah, I wasn't expecting-" and he's...laughing? But only a little because wow that is so...yeah, not what he was expecting.  
  
"God, you're such a prick," Zayn says, but he's laughing too.  
  
"So that's all this is? Just, like, you being scared that we won't still be mates?"  
  
Zayn scoffs, "Not just that, Lou. I don't know. I know I don't always show it but I worry about you. You seemed really upset, you know, whenever he got here. So can you blame me for being...suspicious? I mean, you never told me what he did. But I figure it had to be pretty bad to make you want to replace him with  _me_  as your best mate," he laughs lightly but Louis' smile drops, chest tightening.  
  
"Zayn, I..."  
  
"I'm not asking you to explain anything, alright?" he cuts in.  
  
"No," Louis shakes his head, "I need to. I can't- Look, what happened two years ago...it wasn't anything Harry did."  
  
Zayn's brows pinch in confusion.  
  
"It was me," Louis admits, "It was my fault."  
  
Zayn's eyes widen a little bit then, clearly not having expected that admission. His mouth opens and then closes again. Louis continues before he can say anything.  
  
"And that's all i'm gonna say about it, okay?" His tone soft but still with a sense of finality. Zayn considers him for a moment before nodding.  
  
"Yeah, okay," he concedes, "From this moment on, consider this done, yeah? If you're happy, i'm happy."  
  
Louis smiles weakly, nodding, agreeing.  
  
He feels like something has just shifted, changed for the better, and it's the lightest he's felt in weeks.


	11. Chapter 11

Louis can't recall how he ended up here exactly, back straining against his bedroom door with Harry's head bobbing between his thighs.  
  
He tries to backtrack. They'd been playing their first home game of the season against a ridiculously good Manchester team. They'd been down until the middle of their second half before Louis had kicked it into gear and scored a goal. And then Harry had sealed the deal on an assist by Louis with a few minutes remaining and stolen the win. The rest of the team had been more than impressed, even Zayn, who'd slapped hands with Harry and congratulated him, much to Louis' pleasant surprise.  
  
Louis can barely remember the whirlwind from the celebration on the field to Harry dragging him through the parking lot, insisting they bypass the locker rooms and go straight back to the complex. Louis had been too high from adrenaline to question the recklessness of it. He'd let Harry pull him to his and Niall's flat (it was closer) and all but drag him into his room by the front of his jersey, his bedroom door being closed by way of his body being pushed back into it.  
  
Louis had only stood there, preparing for Harry's lips and hands to come crashing down on him. He'd only been half-right though. Harry had swayed in front of him, eyes dark and blown before sinking slowly to his knees.  
  
Louis' mouth had fallen open, heart hammering in his chest. And at that point he couldn't tell what was adrenaline and what was nervous anticipation. Harry hadn't spoken, his eyes silently asking if it was okay and Louis had only been able to make an embarrassing choked sound in the back of his throat. Harry had assumed the invitation, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Louis' football shorts and pulling them down, his jock strap following shortly thereafter.  
  
Harry's mouth is fucking amazing, Louis decides. He can't take his eyes away as Harry continues swallowing him down, over and over even after several minutes have passed. He never loses enthusiasm either, lips stretched around him and swollen from the exertion.  
  
"Fuck, Harry. Fuck."  
  
Louis had been so overwhelmed with Harry's hands the last few weeks he hadn't thought about what this might be like. Well, that's a lie. He'd thought about it. You can only practice the art of handjobs for so long before your mind starts wandering. And it's not like he's a virgin to a decent blowjob. But this is  _Harry_  and whatever he's doing right now is so beyond just decent that Louis doesn't know why he was ever nervous about them doing this. So, yes, he'd thought about having Harry's mouth before this. He'd even thought of doing this to Harry in return, but that one had made him a little nervous. But he'd  _wanted_  to. A lot. Even though he has next to no idea how to do it properly.  
  
Harry's a nice example to watch though, his mouth and hands sliding expertly up and down Louis' cock, taking him in deep and sucking with just the right amount of pressure. The heat and suction of his mouth is overwhelming and Louis' head swims with how fucking amazing it feels, knocking against the wood of his door harshly several times when that familiar coil in his belly starts tightening. He's trying to take mental notes in the part of his brain that isn't consumed with  _HarryHarryHarry_  and  _OhGodHarry'sMouth_. But he somehow doubts he could ever do it this well, even if he learned every nuance of Harry's technique.  
  
"Fuck, Haz. I'm gonna..."  
  
Harry hums encouraging around him. He pulls off and pumps Louis quickly before taking just the head of him back inside. Seconds later Louis comes harder than he ever has it feels like, hand flying down to Harry's hair and gripping it tightly as he spills into his mouth.  
  
"Are you trying...to kill me?" he pants, eyes falling down to Harry as the boy wipes his mouth clean.  
  
Harry only head-butts his pelvis gently, smiling against the skin there.  
  
Louis returns the favour a few mornings later when Harry is still half-asleep and straining against his boxers.  
  
He just goes for it, a little eager even. He's pretty sure his teeth get in the way a few times and his jaw aches a bit after a few minutes but he doesn't want to stop. Something about the way it makes Harry arch off the mattress and make these delicious noises in the back of his throat, like Louis' mouth is the single greatest thing he's ever felt, spurs Louis on. He thinks he might have to get used to the whole swallowing thing, but he'll never get used to the way Harry looks at him for hours after, eyes fucking  _glistening_  like Louis has offered him the moon or something and he's just floating, floating, floating.  
  
000  
  
"Who's ready to get shit-faced?!"  
  
"Sully, I swear, if you don't get your face an appropriate distance away from me, you will live to regret it."  
  
Zayn pushes the shorter boy back by his shoulder and Sully wobbles a bit, already way drunker than he has any right to be.  
  
Louis checks his phone. It's still pretty early, even if it did take them several hours to all finally agree to come to Brewer's second big party of the semester. Zayn had brought it up and Niall had practically begged for them all to go. Louis had looked to Harry, who had only shrugged, seemingly okay with doing whatever Louis wanted to do. They'd still lazed around a bit after that, but Niall's fidgeting had won out and so here they are.  
  
The first thing Louis thinks when he walks through the door is that this party is pretty much exactly like the last one. The only difference is he's not getting blitzed and snogging a girl against the wall while he wonders every few seconds whether Harry's going to show up or not. Louis tries not to think about that night, regretting more than a few parts of it.  
  
Harry bumps his shoulder, "You alright?"  
  
"What?" he turns, noticing on a cursory glance that the rest of his friends have scattered.  
  
"You looked zoned out," Harry answers.  
  
"Oh, um. No, i'm fine. Let's go find something to drink," he says, ushering them away from the foyer and towards the kitchen.  
  
"Actually, I think Niall's gone to..."  
  
Louis waves his hand, "No, no, no. Don't trust  _anything_  that Irishman gives you. His mixed drinks are strong enough to take a giraffe down."  
  
Harry laughs sharply, all teeth, and Louis' stomach pinches. He hadn't realized just how much he missed being able to make Harry, like, really laugh.  
  
"Whatever you say, then."  
  
Louis leads them into the small kitchen, immediately taking inventory of the variety of alcohols at his disposal, bottles scattered across the bench. Some are half-empty already. He plucks a red solo cup from a haphazardly torn open stack and begins pulling different bottles out of the heap. Harry just watches on as Louis concentrates on mixing. After pouring a few different liquids into the cup, he shuffles to the refrigerator. He comes back with a jug of fruit juice and tops it off.  
  
"Here, try this," he pushes the cup into Harry's hand. Harry swirls the liquid around for a few seconds before bringing it to his lips.  
  
"....Good, right?""  
  
Surprisingly, it is. Harry offers a noise of approval, bringing the cup down and wiping his mouth.  
  
"You take that one," he says, already pulling another cup off the stack.  
  
"Lou, Hazza!"  
  
Louis turns from where he's pouring in the vodka to see Niall in the door leading from the kitchen to the deck. His face is already a shade crimson.  
  
"Strong pong. You two against me and Zayn," he double points at them, "So be prepared to lose."  
  
And with that he slips back outside. Harry turns to Louis, smiling and shaking his head.  
  
Louis pours the last of his drink into his cup and sloshes it around.  
  
"Things are about to get scary," he declares, knocking his cup against Harry's lightly. "Cheers."  
  
000  
  
"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"  
  
Louis grimaces and Harry tosses him a sympathetic look around his own cup as Louis swallows the contents of his. It's his third drink of the night and this one is definitely one of Niall's concoctions because it feels like straight petrol burning down his throat. By the looks of things, Harry suffering a similar fate. Louis crushes the plastic cup in his hand when he's finally downed it all.  
  
"Okay!" he coughs, "I surrender."  
  
"Sore loser doesn't suit you, Tommo," Zayn quips.  
  
"Unless you want me to throw up in your car later, I have to quit drinking this shit," He wiggles the empty crushed plastic in his hand before placing it back on the table.  
  
Zayn sobers a bit, "Uh, yeah, maybe that's a good idea..."  
  
Louis raises his eyebrows and nods. Harry's eyes look like they're watering by the time he's finally finished with his cup. "Niall," he coughs, "What the fuck did you put in this?" He asks roughly.  
  
Niall only beams proudly, "Smooth, innit?"  
  
Harry snorts and Louis has to cover his mouth and turn away to keep from laughing.  
  
"Secret Horan family recipe that is, young Hazza. If I told you, i'd have to kill you."  
  
Harry shoots Louis an amused look, "Shame."  
  
"Alright, who's next?" Zayn calls out and Louis takes the opportunity to slip away from the porch. He tosses Harry a look over his shoulder.  
  
He makes it back to the kitchen unnoticed and Harry joins him shortly after, coming to stand behind him where Louis is already busy mixing another drink at the bench.  
  
"Think we can weasel that secret family recipe out of him? I mean, I think it'd go over well at a dinner party, don't you?"  
  
Louis barks a laugh, turning to hand Harry a new, and definitely better tasting, drink. He jumps a little when he sees how close Harry is. He pauses, eyes scanning up and down Harry's body, taking in the length of him beneath his white shirt and fitted back jeans. He could easily blame the alcohol for the warmth coursing through his body, but he knows it's not the only reason.  
  
Harry gingerly takes the cup from Louis' frozen hand and Louis meets his eyes finally. Harry takes a slow sip and moves even closer until his mouth is right along the shell of Louis' ear.  
  
"You trying to get me drunk, love?"  
  
Louis' whole face heats up. He doesn't answer, eyes flickering down to Harry's shapely lips every time he takes another sip, lips slick and shiny.  
  
"Bedroom. Now," he breathes, moving out of the small space he's been trapped in.  
  
Harry smirks around his drink and follows Louis out of the kitchen, no questions asked.  
  
They only make it as far as the bathroom, both too impatient to look for a vacant bedroom with a working lock. Louis drags them in and locks the door behind him. Harry turns to face him and bites his lip, eyes slightly glassy and cheeks pink. He places his cup on the edge of the sink and Louis pushes forward at the same time, dragging Harry to him with a hand around his neck.  
  
Harry's mouth tastes like fruit and alcohol, with traces of that minty gum he was chewing earlier. Louis sucks on his tongue greedily.  
  
Harry groans into his mouth, hands sliding from Louis' waist to his bum and hauling Louis against him. Louis gasps into his mouth, his own hands reaching down to ruck Harry's shirt up so he can slide his fingers against the flat of his belly above his waistband. Harry pushes one of his hands in between them to massage the front of Louis' jeans firmly.  
  
"Oh, fuck," Louis hisses, breaking their mouths apart, "Harry. Harry, we shouldn't be doing this here."  
  
"Mmm hmm," Harry kisses down his neck, giggles lightly against his throat, "You just have to be quiet."  
  
Louis knows that alcohol has always made Harry braver, but he knows they are being borderline careless right now, doing this when only a thin door separates them from a house full of people. He's finding it  _really_  difficult to care right now though.  
  
Harry whines against his ear, "Fuck. Just want you... I wish we were at yours right now."  
  
Louis makes himself breathe, "Yeah? Doing what?"  
  
"Huh?" Harry says distractedly, almost like he didn't hear.  
  
Louis' head swims, feels the alcohol and the heat of Harry burn through him, every nerve ending in his body on fire.  
  
"Tell me," he continues breathily, "I want you to tell me everything you want to do."  
  
He doesn't know why he says it, doesn't even know how he wants Harry to answer him but he feels reckless and dizzy right now. He can feel Harry breathe harshly against his ear, swallowing audibly.  
  
"Go on," he pushes, nuzzling his face into Harry's hair.  
  
"Want," Harry starts, "I want touch you."  
  
"Where?"  
  
Harry makes a little whining noise. "Here," he starts, large hands sliding back down to cup Louis' ass.  
  
Louis swats them away, "No, don't show me. Tell me."  
  
Harry breathes hotly, steadily into his ear. The heat in Louis' stomach triples. He's getting off on this, he realizes, making Harry this flustered and making him use his words even though it's hard for him,  _especially_  because it's hard for him. He thinks that maybe the alcohol is making him a little too brave as well...  
  
"What else?" he prompts.  
  
Harry tries to breathe evenly, "Wanna... suck you off."  
  
"Yeah? Did you...did you like doing that?" Louis stutters, not sure what the hell they're doing anymore but he doesn't want to stop it, whatever it is.  
  
Harry whimpers softly and Louis can feel him nod before, "Yes. I- Yes. I think about it...even when we're not..."  
  
Louis shuts his eyes, "What else, Harry? What else do you think about? What else do you want?"  
  
It's a loaded question; Louis knows that, even in the fuzzy, altered state his brain has fallen into. Harry threads his fingers through the short hair at the base of Louis' neck and his body tightens a little before,  
  
"Want you to..." he swallows, "Take me home, bend me over the bed..."  
  
Louis' swift in-take of breath is loud, but not as loud as the voice booming outside the bathroom door.  
  
"TOMMO! Get your arse out here! I've got a surprise for you!"  
  
Louis jumps almost violently, heart almost beating right out of his chest.  
  
"Fucking hell," he clutches his chest, resting his body and head against the door as Harry takes a step backwards, head bowed. Louis watches him carefully. Louis' whole brain is buzzing and it's not just from the alcohol anymore. Harry's eyes finally meet his. There's something undeniably timid in them, but he cocks his head forward, laughing nervously.  
  
"Go on. I'm a big boy."  
  
Louis bites his lip unsurely. Harry just laughs lightly some more and Louis wonders if he's only imagining the underlying nervousness there. Louis doesn't want to leave like this, not after that, but he can hear Niall in the living room from here and knows there's really no other option. He swallows and nods his head tightly. He steps to the sink and turns it on, bringing a palmful of cool water to his flushed face. He checks his reflection in the mirror and tries to even his breathing out before quietly slipping out of the bathroom.  
  
He walks across the shadowy hallway and into the amber light of the living room. Niall's head pops up.  
  
"There you are!"  
  
Louis shrugs, tries to smile, "Here I am."  
  
He sidles up alongside Louis and pulls him in with an arm around his shoulders, "Go ahead and ask me," he slurs slightly, "why i'm your best mate."  
  
"Uh...why?"  
  
"Who  _always_  helps you pull?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Niall rolls his eyes, "Whatever. Guess who wants to shag you?"  
  
Before Louis can even ask, Niall is twirling them around and directing his line of site to a shapely blonde a few meters away. He recognizes her from past parties, or school maybe. He can't remember. He doesn't know her name off the top of his head.  
  
"Oh, uh, Niall that's not-"  
  
"It's okay, Tommo. You can tell me how great I am later."  
  
Louis drags him back by the arm as he tries to walk off and leave Louis with this girl, who he's sure is quite lovely, but, yeah, definitely not happening.  
  
"Niall. It's  _really_  not necessary."  
  
Niall glances down at him once, "I mean, I wasn't going to say anything, but it kind of looks necessary, mate."  
  
Louis glances down where to where Niall is motioning to his crotch, which is still a bit tented from his botched escapade in the bathroom with Harry, "Oh, for fuck's sake," he curses, attempting to readjust himself.  
  
Niall only laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world and slaps Louis on the back, "No worries. Go on then," he pushes Louis toward the girl, who's giggling and biting her lip. Before Louis can escape she's wrapped her thin arms around his neck.  
  
"Hi," she giggles.  
  
Louis smiles politely, hands going to her hips to keep her from moving in any closer. Within seconds, she's tossing her head back, laughing and biting her slick, glossy lips. He whirls them around a bit, carefully trying to dislodge the girl without hurting her feelings. She just grips into him tighter and goes to press her sticky lips to his neck.  
  
He jumps a little, fingers digging into her small waist to push her away, "Sorry, love. I don't think..." he trails off, heart plummeting.  
  
Harry is suddenly standing across the room then, mouth slack and eyes locked on Louis and...  _Oh, shit_. No. No, no, no.  
  
He bolts before Louis can manage to push the girl away from him. He wants to call Harry's name out right then but he's in a room full of people and  _fuck_. He doesn't look back at the now pouting blonde as he chases after Harry.  
  
By the time he runs through the front door, he spots Harry walking out by where they parked the car. He's walking passed it though, toward the shadowy road beyond.  
  
Louis jogs after him, struggling not to lose sight of him through the darkness of the road. There's hardly any street lamps out here. He finally gets within a few meters of him.  
  
"Harry!" he calls but it does no good, "Harry, would you just fucking  _stop_! Harry!"  
  
He reaches forward to pull Harry around by the elbow but Harry jerks his arm loose from Louis' grip violently.  
  
"Don't," he snarls.  
  
"What do you mean,  _don't_? Harry,  _stop_."  
  
"Piss off," Harry snaps, taking a few more strides forward before stopping suddenly and dropping his head into his hands. Louis can see he's shaking.  
  
"Harry..."  
  
"I'm so  _fucking_  stupid."  
  
"What?" Louis' heart pinches, "No, no you're not. Harry,  _fuck_  that was nothing.  _Nothing_. It was just Niall being an idiot. I can explain. Would you please just listen to me?"  
  
Harry turns to him and shakes his head, eyes bloodshot, voice low and firm, "I don't really want to hear anything you have to say."  
  
Louis swallows, hurt blooming inside of him. He reaches his hand out but Harry balks at his touch, shaking his head in disbelief. He looks scared and uncertain and like he might burst into tears at any moment. Louis' insides are going haywire, brain still too muddled and shocked and he can't figure out how to  _fix this_.  
  
"Is this just like... some kind of game for you? A one-off?"  
  
"What?" Louis' eyes narrow, "You know it's not!"  
  
"No, I don't know that actually."  
  
Louis huffs disbelievingly, "Why I would I risk  _everything_  to be with you? If it was just me fucking around?" He's angry now, angry that Harry still can't  _see_.  
  
"You think I don't  _risk everything, too_?" Harry shouts and it hits Louis in such a way that he's momentarily speechless. Because _of course_. And his risks may be different from Louis', may have more to do with his heart being on the line instead of his reputation, but it's still there and it hits Louis in a way he's not prepared for.  
  
Harry clenches his fist, "What is this, Lou? What are you doing with me?"  
  
"Harry-"  
  
"Tell me," he clips, desperation in his eyes, "If this is just you trying to, I don't know, figure yourself out, then..."  
  
"It's  _not_."  
  
"Well then, what? Because if it is, you can just... go figure it out with someone else. Because I'm not going to be your experiment."  
  
Louis almost growls, coming forward to grab Harry by the shirt and he thinks he even shakes him a little, "God damn you!" he chokes out, "Why are you so hell-bent on ruining this? Huh?  _Why_?"  
  
Harry just drops his head, shaking it.  
  
"Look at me," Louis says firmly. When Harry's eyes raise to meet his, Louis can see the low light of the streetlamp several meters off reflect off of the moisture gathered there.  
  
"We can't do this," Harry says thickly, "How are we supposed to keep this up like this? I don't know if  _I_  can do it, Louis."  
  
"Do what?" He asks, even though he's terrified of the answer.  
  
"Be your secret."  
  
Louis' heart breaks, "You're not..."  
  
"Then what am I?" he laughs humorlessly.  
  
"Harry, i'm so sorry... I-"  
  
"I don't need everyone to know," Harry cuts in firmly, "I know you're not ready. But I just. I just need  _someone_ to know that you're mine."  
  
Louis' mouth falls open and he can't stop himself from pulling Harry to him, burying his face in the space between Harry's neck and shoulder. Harry wraps his arms around Louis and squeezes back. Louis threads his fingers through Harry's hair and tilts the boy's head until Louis' mouth is next to his ear, " _I_  know that," he whispers, " _You_  know that."  
  
Harry sniffs once, pulling back, "I don't think it's enough..."  
  
Louis lets him step back, gives him space to suck in a large breath and wipe at his face.  
  
Louis clears his throat after a moment, "Haz, can we just- Can we just go home?"  
  
Harry eyes him incredulously, "How is that going to fix anything, Louis? And besides, what are we going to do, walk?"  
  
"No," Louis shakes his head, "Like...  _home_ , home."  
  
Harry's mouth sputters open, brain trying to re-route, "You... want to go home?"  
  
Louis nods his head, "Like, this weekend. Let's just go. You and me... I haven't seen my mum or the girls in ages. And I just- need to get away from here. Just come home with me, Harry. Please."  
  
It takes Harry a minute to gather himself before he finally answers and Louis feels like a tornado has just been let loose inside of him, pressure everywhere at once and all he wants to do is  _escape_.  
  
"Okay," Harry breathes, and something gives inside of Louis, opens up so he can breathe again, "Let's go home."


	12. Chapter 12

Louis feels a mix of things when he pulls into the driveway of his childhood home. It's dark outside, nearly midnight, and there are no lights on in the house. He'd managed to convince Harry that leaving directly after practice was a good idea. Harry had reminded him that it was a good four-hour drive to Holmes Chapel, but Louis had persisted. He didn't want to spend one more night in Essex, and as far as he was concerned, the sooner he could get himself and Harry away, the better.  
  
Harry hadn't made it an hour into the drive before falling asleep, upper body folded over the center console. Louis remembered then; Harry never could stay awake on long car rides. He hadn't minded the silence, needing the time to think, and Harry being awake to keep him company wouldn't have mattered all that much, anyway. He had been been distant since the party, making excuses of too much homework and impending exams to study for as to why he couldn't constantly sneak around with Louis.  
  
And Louis had tried to give him space, tried not to push too much, knowing that if he could just get Harry home that weekend he'd be able to fix this. He'd been counting on it, in fact. So, he'd slept alone their last three nights at school, missing Harry's warmth next to him more than he thought possible.  
  
Louis cuts the ignition and rubs Harry's shoulder, jostling him gently.  
  
"We're here," he says softly.  
  
Harry stirs awake, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he sits up. "Sorry I fell asleep," he mumbles.  
  
Louis smiles weakly. "It's fine."  
  
"Does your mum know you're coming?"  
  
Louis sighs. "I meant to call her, I just...didn't know what to say, I guess." He fiddles with the steering wheel, not meeting Harry's eyes, another wave of guilt washing over him.  
  
Harry swallows and nods, "Well, do you want to take me home first, or...?"  
  
"No," Louis answers quickly, ignoring Harry's perplexed expression, "I mean, it's a quarter till. I was thinking maybe we could just crash here tonight? And i'll take you over in the morning?" He tries to remain casual about it, not wanting Harry to know how afraid he is of spending another night away from him. And Louis knows he isn't, but it still feels like Harry's slipping away somehow.  
  
He meets Harry's eyes. He looks unsure, but eventually nods his acquiescence. "Okay," he agrees. "If you're sure."  
  
The house is dark when they get inside, and a bit cold. Louis breathes in the scent of his mother's favorite candle, burned not too long ago. A part of him had expected her to still be awake to greet them, but he doesn't know if Harry's quite up for a reunion right now, so he's sort of thankful that she isn't. His mum always loved Harry a great deal. So Louis knows she'll be shocked by his sudden reappearance after so long, and she'll ask questions that Louis will need a night of sleep to properly deal with.  
  
They get ready for bed as quietly as they can, only turning the tiny lamp on in Louis' room so they can see where they're going. Louis' already in bed by the time Harry comes back from the bathroom, a fresh t-shirt and pair of pajama pants on. Louis frowns. Harry usually sleeps pretty much naked, but Louis remembers they're in his childhood room right now, and maybe that's all there is to it.  
  
Harry approaches the bed slowly, wringing his wrists, "I can, um, take the floor? If you think it might be weird..."  
  
"What?" Louis frowns. "No. C'mere." He takes Harry's hand and pulls him gently down until he's flat on his back next to Louis. Louis turns on his side and runs his hand over Harry's chest.  
  
"My mum's seen us in the same bed before. If she comes in, I doubt she'll think anything of it."  
  
Harry huffs, turning to face Louis. "Yeah, but you're forgetting she hasn't seen me in two years."  
  
"Well," Louis struggles, picking invisible lint off of Harry's t-shirt "...I don't care. Just stay."  
  
Harry closes his eyes and sighs. His only answer is to reach over to the night table and switch the lamp off. Louis feels relief sweep through him as Harry settles back beside him wordlessly.  
  
He watches Harry for several seconds after that, his profile still and unmoving. He's not asleep though, eyes blinking slowly in the darkness. Louis reaches his hand up and around the side of Harry's face, gently attempting to turn his head. Harry shuts his eyes tightly and lets a shaky breath go. Louis' heart hurts.  
  
"Please don't shut me out," Louis murmurs, "I can't take it."  
  
Harry sighs miserably. "I'm not trying to."  
  
Louis forces Harry onto his side so they're facing. "I'm so sorry, Harry. About that night, I'm-"  
  
"We don't-" Harry clips, "We don't have to talk about that. I was...drunk," he laughs derisively, "I was drunk and everything I said... You know what? Just forget  _everything_  I said, okay? I overreacted. And I just...don't even want to think about it."  
  
Louis wants to oblige him. He doesn't really want to think about it either, anxiety swirling in his gut whenever he does. But there's one instance of that night that refuses to leave him though, one instance he can't forget about. He hasn't stopped thinking about it for days.  
  
"Did you mean what you said?" He asks after a beat of silence, "At the party?"  
  
Harry looks confused for several moments, obviously trying to figure out what Louis means exactly. Louis feels his entire face go hot.  
  
"You know..." He continues, "About what I asked. About what you wanted..."  
  
The last part is barely above a whisper but Harry hears it nonetheless, eyes suddenly alight with recognition. His head turns away from Louis, eyes now stuck back to the ceiling. He sweeps a hand over his eyes, clearly embarrassed.  
  
"Louis..."  
  
"No, it's...i'm not-," Louis sighs in frustration, sitting up and propping on his elbow. "Will you look at me, please?"  
  
Harry's eyes come back to his face reluctantly.  
  
Louis swallows, nervous and trying to figure out how to proceed. "It's just...You've thought about that? You know...us...doing that?"  
  
Harry's eyes flicker downward again. "Does that freak you out?"  
  
"No," Louis answers softly after a beat, and realizes he means it. "Just surprised me, I think."  
  
Harry swallows and searches Louis' eyes through the dark. "I think about doing everything with you."  
  
Louis' heart speeds up and he flexes his fingers against Harry's chest. His lips part slightly and his eyes lock on Harry's. Even in the darkness he can see Harry's expression, hovering somewhere between nervous and wanting. Louis leans down to kiss him softly, and soon enough Harry's lips are moving gently with his. It's their first proper kiss in days and Louis doesn't want it to end.  
  
When they do eventually separate, Louis lifts his fingers to trace the bow of Harry's upper lip gently.  
  
"I missed you."  
  
Harry's lips quirk into a smile and he tugs gently on Louis' shirt, pulling him down until he can rest his head on Louis' shoulder. Louis bends the arm beneath Harry's head and settles his fingers in Harry's hair, scratching lightly.  
  
"I'm glad we're here," is the last thing Louis hears before he falls asleep.  
  
000  
  
The sun is barely out when Louis wakes the next morning. He's been dozing on and off for the last couple of hours. He attributes it to the quiet nerves in his belly. Today is big, he finally realizes. Bigger than he's been pretending it isn't. He knows that his family seeing Harry again is going to make waves for everyone. Speaking of, he wonders if his mum is up yet.  
  
Harry stirs gently beside him and Louis thinks he might wake for a moment. He doesn't, shifting only a little before his breathing returns to an even rhythm. Louis tries to close his eyes and go back to sleep, not wanting to wake Harry just yet, but his patience doesn't last long. He thinks it might be a good idea to not overwhelm his mum with too much at once though, so he slips out of bed as quietly as he can, pulling the covers back over Harry before he leaves.  
  
The house is silent when he goes downstairs, the faint light of the morning streaming through his mother's thick blue curtains. As soon as he reaches the kitchen he sets the kettle on and starts rummaging through the cupboards. He's been gone for two months, but everything is pretty much exactly how he remembers. He nicks a half-empty box of cereal from the top shelf and when he turns around his mother is walking into the kitchen.  
  
"Oh, god!" she yelps, hand slapping over her mouth as soon as she sees her son. Louis only smiles and shrugs, placing the box of cereal on the counter.  
  
"Oh, god" his mum repeats, more slowly as tears start welling in her eyes. She strides forward to collect him in her arms and hug the living daylights out of him.  
  
"Don't cry, mum," he laughs lightly, kissing her head.  
  
"You scared me!" She pulls back slightly to look at him. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"  
  
"Last minute decision," he offers lowly, still mindful of the sleeping people in the house. "Besides," he continues, "I know you love a good surprise."  
  
"Oh, you," she swats his chest, "You know I don't! That was mean."  
  
Louis laughs at her petulant expression but doesn't let go of her.  
  
"But i'm happy you're here," she adds. "How long are you staying?"  
  
"'Til tomorrow night," he answers. She pouts a little. "But we'll make the most of it."  
  
"'Course we will." She kisses his cheek several times and cards her fingers through his bedhead. "What do you want for breakfast?"  
  
000  
  
An hour later and he's caught up with just about everything in the Tomlinson household. He hasn't been away that long, but it still feels like he's missed so much. He really should call his mum more. Louis sips his tea slowly, listening to the calming quality of his mother's voice as she details her latest issues with his sister Lottie.  
  
"She's just at that age, you know? More interested in boys than school."  
  
Louis nods. "Does she have a boyfriend?"

Jay blows a breath out, "I think so? Not that she'd tell me." She laughs, but Louis can sense the discord in her voice.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
Louis drinks slowly before speaking again. "What do you mean?"  
  
She shrugs, "Are you seeing anyone? I know you ended things with Eleanor a while back."  
  
Louis feels that familiar heat roiling in his belly, and his mouth goes a little dry. He hadn't planned on telling his mum anything just yet, so he isn't really prepared to answer her question. He could lie about it, he supposes, but the thought of doing that makes him feel a little sick.  
  
"Um..."  
  
He's saved by a shrill shriek from upstairs. His mother startles and Louis lets a breath go, equal parts relieved and concerned.  
  
"Was that Daisy or Phoebe?"  
  
His mum sets her tea down and stands up from the couch just in time to see one of the twins bounding down the stairs. Neither he nor his mother has time to ask her what's wrong, because as she makes it down the last step, Harry is suddenly halfway down the stairs, hair a bit askew and looking more than a little desperate as he attempts to calm down the frenzied child who's now hiding behind her mother.  
  
 _Shit_ , Louis thinks.  
  
"Mum, I-"  
  
"...Harry?" his mother says slowly, looking up from the little girl at her waist. Harry can only smile sheepishly at her as he takes his last step off the stairs and into the small living area.  
  
Louis can see his mother's eyes soften and she looks like she might cry again. Harry glances at Louis quickly from the corner of his eye and Louis can only offer him an apologetic look in return.  
  
"Oh, my god," his mother coos, sounding eerily reminiscent of the way she reacted to seeing Louis in the kitchen earlier. But there's something softer in her tone and expression this time, more disbelieving and awestruck as she gazes upon Harry for the first time in years. Harry accepts her easily as she steps forward to wrap her arms around him. He meets Louis' eyes from over the top of her head and smiles softly. Louis' chest feels warm as he watches them, his mother gently rocking Harry back and forth like he's her long-lost son or something. Louis can't tear his eyes away.  
  
"Louis!" His thoughts are interrupted as Daisy flings herself at him then, jumping until Louis picks her up.  
  
"Hello, Peas!" She giggles at the nickname, throwing her tiny arms around Louis' neck and burying her face there.  
  
" _Louis William Tomlinson_." 

_Oh shit._

Louis watches as his mother pulls her head away from Harry's chest and levels him with an exasperated look.  
  
"What is the meaning of all this? Is it your mission to give your mum a heart attack this morning?" But she's still smiling as she asks so Louis figures she isn't really mad.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?" She laughs, because it's only a joke, but Harry's eyes don't leave Louis' as he swallows nervously.  
  
Louis smiles apologetically and transfers Daisy to his other hip. "Sorry, mum. I was going to tell you, but then  _this one_  went and spoiled the surprise." He lightly tickles his younger sister and she squeals, trying to wiggle free. He lets her down but she sticks close to his side, eyeing Harry like she's unsure of him. Louis' gaze goes between them a few times.  
  
"Peas? Do you remember Harry?"  
  
Daisy doesn't answer, only shyly tucks her head against Louis' leg. Harry is offering the child a small, reassuring smile from his spot next to Louis' mum but Louis can see the disappointment in his expression. Harry had been around since before the twins were even born. And even though he and Louis, at 12 and 14, hadn't known the first thing about babies, Harry had always loved them like they were his own little sisters. He'd helped take care of them as much as Louis had. They were still only three when Harry stopped coming around, so Louis understands why Daisy doesn't remember. Why Phoebe won't remember. And his heart aches at the loss he knows Harry feels but will probably never admit to.  
  
Harry clears his throat, interjecting "She ran into me when I was coming out of the bathroom. I think I scared her."  
  
"Oh, she's fine," Jay ensures easily, turning back to Harry and pulling his face between her hands to get a better look at him.  
  
"Look at you," she practically beams up at Harry, the pads of her thumbs running over his cheeks. "You've grown so much. You're taller than Louis now."  
  
Harry laughs in her hands and Louis groans, "Really, mum, don't remind me."  
  
"Oh, shush. Honestly, I almost didn't recognize you." She steps back, ushering Harry to the couch to sit. Louis takes the seat next to him and Daisy curls up with Jay on the opposite couch.  
  
"So, how did this happen? I mean..."  
  
Even though what his mother is insinuating is completely innocent, Louis still feels his stomach flip. He never told her the reason why Harry stopped coming around during his last year at college, never told her about their fight. He never told anyone. She asked a few times, once she noticed Harry's absence around the house, but Louis avoided properly answering for so long that she finally gave up asking.  
  
"Erm," Harry speaks before he can, "We both go to Essex, actually."  
  
She looks surprised then. "Oh, wow," she breathes, "Well isn't that something? Did you know ahead of time, that Lou was there, or...?"  
  
"Um, no. It- It was a bit of a surprise actually, when we saw each other," Harry answers, glancing at Louis briefly. Louis almost snorts out loud, because _understatement of the century_ is putting it nicely.  
  
"Right." She tilts her head, considering, "I guess I never did tell your mum where Louis was going to uni. How is she, by the way? Oh, dear, I feel horrid. We've really lost touch this past year." Jay worries her lip.  
  
"She's good, last time I talked to her," Harry assures. "I haven't actually seen her yet."  
  
Before his mum can ask, Louis interjects, "Yeah, we got in pretty late last night. I was going to take him over this morning."  
  
"Oh, right, okay. I should probably let you do that then. You know what?" she turns her attention back to Harry, "Why don't you ask your mum if she wants to have dinner tonight? We can do it here and I can cook! It'll be like one big reunion."  
  
Harry smiles at Louis and Louis rolls his eyes affectionately at his mother.  
  
"Yes, ma'am. I'll ask her as soon as I get home."  
  
"Brilliant!" Jay looks around then, seemingly searching for something. "Okay, then. Louis, if I make you a list do you think you could pick some things up for me?" She pulls a notepad out from beneath a stack of books on the coffee table. Louis nods.  
  
"Mum, do you know where my- Oh." Louis' eyes dart to the stairs, to the large eyes of his rather startled fourteen-year-old sister.  
  
"Hey, Lotts," he calls, but her eyes are fixed on Harry, who's smiling somewhat nervously again and waving awkwardly at her. She mumbles something unintelligible and darts back up the stairs.  
  
"Well, that was weird," Louis declares.  
  
Harry turns to him, "Maybe she doesn't remember me either?" He laughs a little.  
  
Jay snorts then, grabbing the attention of both boys. "Oh, she remembers you, Harry."  
  
Louis' eyebrows raise. "What does that mean?"  
  
Jay only shakes her head, laughs and goes back to writing her list. Louis looks at Harry a bit confusedly, but Harry only shrugs.  
  
Felicite comes bounding down the stairs then, hair a mess and rubbing her eyes. She gawks when she sees Louis sitting on the couch and then smiles brightly at him. The first words out of her mouth though are "Is that Harry? What's he doing here?"  
  
To which Louis can only groan.  
  
"Serves you right," Jay laughs, affectionately patting his head before dropping the finished grocery list in his lap.  
  
000  
  
Tesco is pretty much abandoned when they get there. It's still pretty early. Louis had offered to drop Harry off at his house first but the store was the other way and Harry didn't want him to have to double back.  
  
"You can just take me home after, I don't mind. I already called my mum," he'd said, sneaking a quick kiss across the console after Louis' mum had gone back inside.  
  
Harry lets Louis push the cart while he reads down Jay's list and plucks items from the shelves. It's strangely domestic, Louis thinks, doing something as simple as grocery shopping with Harry. And it's not even that they haven't done this before, but Louis can't help but feel different about it now. When Harry laughs and puts back the enormous bag of sweets that Louis snuck into the cart without a word, Louis only pretends to pout, but really just feels warm inside.  
  
Some time later Harry's reaching up to grab a box of some sort of dry mix, his shirt riding up. Louis' eyes snap to the smooth skin there. He hasn't properly touched Harry in days, he realizes. He does a quick cursory glance down both ends of the aisle to ensure they aren't being watched before coming up behind Harry and resting his hands on his hips and nosing the back of his head. Harry jumps a little but then sighs and pushes back into Louis.  
  
"What are you doing?" Harry hums.  
  
"Hmm. Grocery shopping," Louis says lowly. Harry only laughs, turning around in Louis' arms. He smiles lazily, eyes on Louis', content.  
  
"This morning went better than I thought it would." Louis nods in agreement, giving Harry's hips a gentle squeeze.  
  
"Do you think dinner will be weird?" Louis asks.

Harry shrugs. "I don't think so."  
  
"Does- Does your mum know you're with me? I mean," he quickly amends, "Does she know we rode down here together?"  
  
"Um, yeah. I told her. That's all she knows though. Is- is that okay?"  
  
Louis nods quickly, "Yeah. Yeah that's fine. I just don't know how to act, when I see her, I guess. I think it might be a bit weird."  
  
Harry doesn't offer any verbal reassurance, which makes Louis a little nervous. He suddenly wonders how much Harry's mum knows about what happened, and more importantly, what she thinks of him as a result. He doesn't let the thought fester though, distracted by Harry rubbing gentle circles over his lower back. Harry leans forward to kiss Louis' forehead once and with an arm around his shoulder, turns them so they're walking again.  
  
When they make it to the checkout queue, Harry suddenly tightens beside him, dropping his arm.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Harry curses under his breath lightly, eyes trained on something in the distance. Louis follows them until they land on a slim brunette boy behind the only open register in the store. Louis can see that the boy is already looking at them, at  _him_ , his expression pinched.  
  
"Do you know that guy?" Louis asks, turning to look at Harry who's scrubbing a hand through his curls and looking distressed.  
  
"Erm, yeah. Yeah, I do. Dammit. This was a bad idea."  
  
Louis feels a knot forming in his stomach, mind going in a thousand different directions. He wonders who this guy is and why Harry looks so torn up about seeing him here. For a split second he wonders if it's somebody that maybe gave Harry a hard time in school or something. But it doesn't seem right. The boy looks at them between checkouts and it's not with disgust or anything. He looks rather upset, actually, and a little angry. That's when it clicks in Louis' head.  
  
"Wait, is that...?"  
  
Harry lets a large breath go, "The guy I dumped for you? Yeah," he admits. "Fuck, this is gonna be awkward. I didn't know he worked here."  
  
Louis can't ask anymore questions after that, the last person before them in line finishing their transaction. Harry starts wordlessly placing items on the conveyor belt, eyes trained downward. Louis hands him the remaining items in the cart and moves around to the front of the register.  
  
The boy scans their groceries without a word, eyes stuck on Harry, who's still avoiding his gaze. Louis can practically feel the tension in the air.  
  
"Hey, Hazza." The guy's terse voice startles Louis. It looks to have done the same to Harry as well, his eyes snapping to the boy behind the register. Louis tries to ignore the possessiveness settling over him.  
  
"Hi, Adam," Harry smiles tightly, "How have you been?"  
  
Adam looks to Louis then, eyes him up and down. He shakes his head once, lips pursed, "Not as good as you apparently. I guess this is where you fucked off to then, yeah? Louis Tomlinson?"  
  
It's snippy and cold and Harry's mouth falls open to speak but Louis steps forward first, "Excuse me? Have we met?"  
  
Adam's glare turns to Louis, "I go to Priestly. I know who you are."  
  
"Funny, 'cause I don't know you," Louis replies frostily.  
  
Adam's eyes narrow but he ignores the jab, turning back to Harry, "What, is he like, your boyfriend now?"  
  
Harry looks at the boy pleadingly, "Adam, just drop it-"  
  
"Yeah, I am, actually," Louis interjects. Harry's mouth falls open a little and Adam's eyes burn into Louis' across the register, "You got a problem then, mate?"  
  
Adam's bravado shrinks a little under Louis' steady gaze, but he still tries to hold his ground.  
  
"No problem,  _mate_." He takes the credit card that Louis holds out and slides it through the machine as Harry bags their groceries silently, "Have a nice day."  
  
Harry doesn't speak as they finally exit the store. They load the bags in the boot of Louis' car wordlessly. Louis doesn't open his mouth until they're back in the car.  
  
"Look, H, I'm sorry, okay? Please don't be mad. I know I was a bit rude in there, but that guy was a  _complete_  prick and-"  
  
Louis is cut off by Harry's lips smashing into his. Louis sputters a bit at the sudden assault before groaning softly and returning the kiss with enthusiasm. They separate with a light smack a few moments later.  
  
"What was that for?" Louis asks dizzily.  
  
"Did you mean that in there?"  
  
Louis eyes Harry curiously, can't help but smile, "Mean what?"  
  
"You know," Harry stutters, "About us. About you being my..."  
  
"Your boyfriend?" Louis supplies, heart thumping at the word and the way it makes Harry look when he says it, smiling that brilliant smile that makes Louis' heart skip. Harry's face goes red and he nods to himself, looking a little embarrassed. Louis curls his hand around the base of Harry's neck then, thumb resting against his jaw.  
  
"Of course I did," he says softly, "Why would I not mean that?"  
  
Harry shrugs, "I mean, we just never talked...about that. I didn't-"  
  
"Do you not want...?"  
  
"No!" Harry's eyes go wide, "No, I do. I do. I want it. I mean," he shakes his head, "I want to be-"  
  
Louis' light laughter cuts him off, "Well good. Now that that's settled..." he trails off and pulls Harry back in for another kiss, which he immediately accepts.  
  
000  
  
Harry is lazy and content next to him during the car ride back. He doesn't say anything, just plays with Louis' fingers quietly as Louis winds though the many blocks to get to Harry's house. He still remembers the way, even though he hasn't driven it in years. When he pulls into the driveway, Louis offers to come inside before he remembers the cold food in the boot of his car.  
  
"It's fine," Harry promises, kissing him once, "I'll see you tonight, yeah?" Louis doesn't answer, just leans in to kiss Harry again and again, short little pecks and Harry laughs as he tries to finish talking anyway, "Just call me...and tell your mum...thank you."  
  
"Mmhmm," Louis hums, pecking him a few more times before pulling back. He laughs, because Harry looks a bit stunned, eyes hooded and smile lazy. He cards his fingers through the hair at the back of Harry's neck before Harry gets out of the car.  
  
"See you," he calls. Harry nods, smiling to himself as he walks to his door.  
  
Before Louis can put the car in reverse and back out, Harry's mum, Anne, is standing in the doorway to greet her son. Harry hugs her tightly and Louis freezes as Anne's eyes find his over Harry's shoulder. He doesn't know what kind of reaction he expects from the woman who used to be somewhat of a second mother to him years ago. He knows, deep down, he's not expecting one at all like the one his mum gave to Harry earlier that morning. And why would he? No, Anne knows far more than his own mother does, knows more about what happened, what Louis must have done to her son, even if Louis' sure she doesn't know all the details. The look in her eyes as she locks stares with him across the driveway tells him that much. She doesn't look angry exactly, but rather guarded...unsure of him. Harry walks past her into the house and her smile is tight as she waves at Louis weakly from the doorway. Louis does his best to give her a reassuring smile but he doesn't know how successful he is.  
  
His chest hurts a little, and he has the sudden urge to just get out of the car and tell her everything, explain it all until he's made her understand. He wants to tell her how  _happy_  her son makes him, but he can't do any of these things. Not yet, at least.  
  
He will, though, he thinks. He will.  
  
She turns away then, following her son inside, and Louis drives home.


	13. Chapter 13

Dinner is nice and Louis is relieved. His sisters manage to behave themselves when Harry shows up with his mum later that evening. Louis notices that Harry's step dad is missing. "Robin's out of town, actually," Anne had explained, "He's going to be so disappointed he missed Harry."  
  
Turns out, it wasn't his sisters he really had to worry about. He almost has to plug his ears as Jay and Anne shriek loudly when they see each other and immediately start chattering quite loudly over the food Jay's finishing up with in the kitchen. He guesses his mum wasn't exaggerating when she said they'd lost touch over the past year, as they don't run out of things to talk about for nearly the entire night.  
  
Louis' almost thankful that they're as distracted with each other as they are because the way Harry looks tonight, in a clean white button down and well-fitted black trousers, Louis' finding it hard to concentrate on acting like they're just long-lost best friends. It's been over a week since he and Harry have done anything other than kiss and Louis feels like a horny teenager. It's pathetic, really. He's almost twenty-one for christ's sake, and he should be able to control himself better than this. Harry lifts an eyebrow at him a few times during the night, quietly amused.  
  
Louis notices after an hour or so that he isn't the only one staring at Harry either. He hadn't mentioned it when he'd seen his oldest sister coming down the stairs for dinner before Harry and Anne had arrived. But he'd noticed that she had more make-up on her face than he'd ever seen her wear before and he could smell her perfume from across the house. He's not even going to think about what she was wearing before Jay had taken one look and made her go change.  
  
Louis gets it now, his mum's comment from earlier that morning. It's a little disconcerting - but mostly amusing - the way his fourteen-year-old sister is making moony eyes at his boyfriend over the dinner table. And even more amusing is the fact that Harry seems completely oblivious to it, more concerned with trying to make the twins laugh. He looks positively chuffed when he manages to make them giggle so hard they go red in the face. Louis has to force himself to look away from the scene, positive that others can't miss the adoration in his eyes. He settles for gripping Harry's thigh underneath the table instead.  
  
All in all, the night goes wonderfully. Anne had still seemed a little distant, her arms a bit tense as she hugged Louis hello in the doorway. After a glass of wine or two she'd loosened up though and pretty soon they were all discussing old memories from a time so long ago Louis had almost forgotten.  
  
And most importantly, no one talks about how they all ended up here tonight. Louis feels like it should be something tense and looming, the abrupt end to his friendship with Harry and the sudden reappearance of it now, something they want to address but don't out of politeness, but it doesn't ever feel that way, not once. His family and Harry's mum are so caught up in the reunion that they don't even allude to the two years of time that have passed between then and now. It's almost as if that time of them being away from one another has been forgotten, doesn't count somehow.  
  
Louis isn't naive enough to believe that it really is forgotten, but he lets himself live in the fantasy for the moment, comforted by the notion that everything just might turn out okay for once.  
  
It's when Harry's hand is halfway up the inseam of Louis' pants underneath the table that Anne announces that she has to get home. She thanks Jay countless times and kisses all the girls on the cheek as she gets ready to leave.  
  
"It was really lovely, Jay. Thank you so much for having us. We should really do this more often."  
  
"It was no problem at all," his mum assures, "You know you're are always welcome. I'll call you about that thing next week, we'll make a day of it."  
  
Louis has no idea what they're talking about, more concerned with the way Harry's hand keeps accidentally brushes against his hip. Anne kisses Jay's cheek once more before opening the door.  
  
"Are you coming, love?" She turns to Harry.  
  
"Erm... Actually, I think I'm gonna hang out here for a bit, if that's okay?" Louis catches sight of Lottie then and has to stifle his laughter at how pleased she looks over the decision. "I'll be home later though, promise."  
  
"I'll drive him over," Louis adds quickly.  
  
Anne looks unsure for the briefest of moments before nodding softly. "Be careful," she says, leaning in to kiss Harry on the cheek."I love you."  
  
"Love you too, mum."  
  
Once Anne leaves, Louis quickly helps Jay clear the dishes before practically dragging Harry up from the couch and upstairs, much to annoyance of Lottie, who was apparently chattering on about something to him while Louis was busy in the kitchen.  
  
"Someone's eager," Harry laughs, allowing himself to be pulled into Louis' room without any protest.  
  
Louis bypasses any playfulness and goes straight for Harry's neck, sucking open mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, pulling his collar wide as he gets to the skin covering Harry's collarbone. The banter dies on Harry's tongue as he groans not so lightly, fingers carding through Louis' hair. After a minute, he pulls back gently to detach Louis from his neck and smashes their lips together. Louis' tongue is warm and energetic in his mouth, the kiss border-lining on filthy.  
  
Louis tugs Harry down until he's hovering over Louis on the bed. When their bodies align, Louis bucks up and Harry groans into his mouth at the added friction over the growing hardness in his pants. He pulls back then, letting Louis' head drop back onto the mattress.  
  
"We can't do this here," he breathes heavily. Louis groans underneath him, still mindlessly grinding upward, searching for friction. Harry looks at him warningly and Louis huffs in irritation.  
  
"But I haven't touched you in days," he complains, leaning up to kiss down Harry's exposed throat again. Harry has no choice but to move off of Louis then and collapse beside him on the bed. Louis lets him reluctantly, knows he has to. The sounds of his sisters shuffling up and down the hallway are now too loud to ignore anyway. He prays Lottie isn't listening on the other side of his door, trying to figure out what Harry's doing. He can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the thought.  
  
"What?" Harry turns his head, smiling curiously.  
  
Louis momentarily loses his thoughts as the sight of Harry all flushed and turned on overwhelms him.  
  
He shakes his head. "Nothing, just thinking about Lottie."  
  
Harry cocks an eyebrow and Louis laughs, "No," he laughs harder, "Tell me you didn't notice it."  
  
"Notice what?"  
  
Louis laughs sharply then, all the way to his eyes, "She only couldn't take her eyes off you the entire night. She fancies you."  
  
Harry's expression turns bemused then, a funny and slightly disturbed look coming over his face. Louis almost cackles.  
  
"No, she doesn't. I didn't notice anything," Harry tries to reason but it only makes Louis laugh harder, even when Harry swats him on the chest.  
  
"How could you not notice?" Louis questions, "It was about the most  _obvious_  thing going on during dinner tonight."  
  
"Aw, you bothered?" Harry taunts, turning on his side to poke Louis in the ribs.  
  
Louis scoffs, "You think i'm scared of a fourteen-year-old girl stealing my boyfriend?"  
  
A different kind of smile appears on Harry’s face then and he can't contain it, or the blush in his cheeks. He clears his throat after a beat of silence has passed and their easy banter has been disrupted beyond repair.  
  
"Now you're just saying it to get a reaction out of me," he mumbles.  
  
Louis watches him with hooded eyes, thumb coming up to catch on Harry's bottom lip, "Yeah, so?"  
  
Harry shivers a little, taking the tip of Louis' thumb into his mouth and swiping his tongue over it. Louis makes a choked sound and removes his thumb so he can pull Harry's mouth back to his. Harry indulges him for a few minutes, until Louis' fingers start tugging at the buttons on Harry's pants.  
  
"Mmm," Harry groans, swatting his hand away, "Still can't..."  
  
Louis almost whimpers against Harry's mouth. Harry huffs a laugh and pulls away to sit up. He checks his watch.  
  
"It's getting late," he declares, "Maybe you should take me home?"  
  
Disappointment floods Louis' chest but he concedes when he sees that Harry looks serious. They're able to sneak through the house relatively undetected, but Harry insists on telling Jay goodbye and thanking her again for dinner. The drive over is relatively silent and when Louis pulls up to the curb in front of Harry's house, he sighs theatrically.  
  
"Are you above screwing around in a car?" he blurts, only half-joking.  
  
Harry barks a laugh, startled, and Louis can't help but join him after a second. He knows he just sounded utterly ridiculous but he's horny as fuck right now and the thought of going home to tend to himself alone is less than appealing.  
  
Harry calms down until he's only smiling widely and leans in close over the console, stretching until his teeth are grazing the shell of Louis' ear.  
  
"I've got a perfectly good bed upstairs, you know?"  
  
Louis pulls back then, mouth twisting in a smile, "But I thought..."  
  
Harry chuckles, "What? That I was just going to let you drop me off? I'm hard as a rock right now."  
  
Louis' breath hitches and Harry laughs, little puffs of air against Louis' throat.  
  
Louis groans, "Oh, thank god. But what about your mum?"  
  
"Asleep by now," Harry peppers kisses down Louis' neck. "Besides, I have the whole upstairs to myself."  
  
Louis pulls Harry back by the scruff of his neck, breathing heavily, "What are we still doing here, then?"  
  
"Beats me." Harry smiles that wanton smile, all teeth and charisma and Louis' heart picks up.  
  
In the span of thirty seconds, the ignition is cut off and Louis has managed to pull Harry up the driveway and to the front door of the house. Harry laughs at the way he bounces impatiently as Harry unlocks the door as quietly as he can and slips them both inside. It's dark and Louis doesn't expect it, but being hit with the familiar scent of Harry's home after so long is overwhelming. He hasn't been here in over two years and that fact settles over him as he quietly climbs the stairs behind Harry, their hands locked tight together.  
  
The upstairs of Harry's home is the exact opposite of Louis'. It's open and still and utterly, blissfully quiet. Harry moves them quickly to his bedroom with no reluctance, no reservations. Louis feels the push though, the tension settling in his bones as he crosses the threshold into Harry's childhood room. And it's strange because he wasn't expecting it.  
  
It's the same bedroom Louis' been in a thousand times before. But when Harry flicks the lights on and Louis sees it again, all of it - the pictures, the bedspread, the desk lamp, the Man U banner on the wall, the slightly ajar closet door that Harry can never remember to shut all the way - an unidentifiable emotion takes him over.  
  
Harry's already half-way out of his shirt as he moves to the night table to flick the lamp on before coming back to turn the overhead light back off. Louis is only vaguely aware of his movements though as he walks slowly to the center of the room, arms coming around his body to hold himself.  
  
"What's wrong?" Harry asks softly, suddenly behind him. Louis whirls around, eyes landing on Harry's concerned ones. He sighs deeply, because how does he explain this? It's stupid, he knows. But being here, in this room where he ruined everything, is affecting him in a way he didn't anticipate.  
  
All Louis can see are flashes of the last time he was here. The way Harry had looked so nervous but hopeful as he took hold of Louis' hand and stepped forward to kiss him only to be pushed away and rejected. Louis can remember the look in his eyes, the one he'd put there; the desperation and then the hurt and then the anger.  
  
There's nothing in Harry's eyes now though except concern for him and it makes Louis hate himself. Maybe Harry doesn't remember, or doesn't want to. Maybe he doesn't hold onto weird things like this the way Louis apparently does. It's just a room. But it makes Louis' heart ache and all he wants to do it fix it, erase it, change it. Make it mean something else.  
  
Harry takes his hand gently then, startling Louis out of his daze, "Lou, are you in there...?"  
  
Louis flexes his fingers around Harry's, mouth falling open on a whisper.  
  
"Kiss me," he breathes.  
  
Harry's brows cinch, "What?"  
  
"Just kiss me. Please," Louis repeats. He just needs Harry to kiss him. Kiss him like he did two years ago and everything will be okay. Because he's going to kiss back this time. He's going to kiss back and kiss harder and let the boy in front of him know that he's all he wants, all he's ever wanted.  
  
Harry hovers in front of him but doesn't give in to Louis' request, expression now laced with something like frustration.  
  
Louis pleads, "Please. I just need to-"  
  
Harry cuts him off, slamming his lips against his. "Stop," Harry almost growls into his mouth, "I don't want you to fix it. I don't need you to fix it."  
  
And that's all Louis needs to hear. He grabs a hold of Harry's shirt and pulls him in.  
  
Harry sighs into his mouth, bringing a large hand up to cup the back of Louis' head and hold him steady. Their tongues fight, neither giving in to the other. There's more to this now, something more desperate and frustrated and needy. Harry kisses him like he's leaving clues behind, secret messages inside Louis' mouth, a thousand words he'd practiced in his head that are no longer applicable, that no longer have to be said, but maybe they did once, before this all changed. Louis leaves his own messages behind. Along the roof of Harry's mouth, the flushed skin of his chest, the swell of his lips.  _i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry._  
  
Harry walks them backwards to the bed, shucking his pants off after he pushes Louis down onto the mattress. Louis begins working on his own clothes then, eyes never leaving Harry. Between a smattering of kisses and mindless groping, they both manage to finally get naked. Louis settles himself between Harry's splayed thighs, adjusting until their cocks line up. Harry almost cries out as Louis takes them both in his fist and works his hand up and down, firm and quick until they're both coming hard between their bodies. Louis continues grinding against him afterwards, body still tight with need. It doesn't take five minutes before Harry's hardening again as well, days of pent-up frustration to remedy.  
  
Louis grips Harry's face between his hands and kisses him deeply. But it's like no matter how hard he pulls, presses, it's still not enough. His cock throbs painfully against Harry's hip. Harry seems to sense his frustration, his voice suddenly in Louis' ear.  
  
"Do you want my mouth?" His breath is hot against Louis' skin. Louis groans and sits up and back. He takes in the sight of Harry on his back, all splayed out for him, already covered in a light sheen of sweat and breathing heavily. Louis idly strokes Harry's legs where they rest on either side of his own. After a minute, his hands slowly move around to the inside of his thighs, to the pale and impossibly soft skin there. He pushes against the flesh until Harry's legs are lifting up and out, exposing him to Louis' gaze. He gasps but doesn't pull away and Louis' whole body heats up then. Nervous, but a good nervous. He finds himself whispering the words easily, a desperate need taking root inside of him.  
  
"Do you want to?"  
  
Harry's eyes go a little wide, a little glassy then. He swallows thickly and his hands fist in the sheets.  
  
"Not if you don't want to," he says, voice wrecked and barely above a whisper, but Louis can hear the longing there.  
  
Louis pushes forward then the tiniest bit, enough to where the head of his cock is barely nudging along the crease of Harry's arse. Harry shudders beneath him, eyes squeezing shut.  
  
"I want to," Louis breathes. Harry blinks at him a few times, stays silent as if giving Louis time to change his mind if he wants to. Louis makes sure his gaze never waivers. He wants this.  
  
Harry licks his lips and a concentrated look comes over his face. He nudges at Louis' fingers that are still gripping into his thighs and urges him to let go so he can sit up. Louis immediately grabs onto the underside of his elbows to keep him upright. Harry forces Louis to look straight at him, seemingly studying every nuance of Louis expression, searching for something.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Louis nods. Yeah, his heart is beating a mile a minute and every inch of his skin feels like it's on fire but he's sure. So sure it kind of scares him. Harry still looks a little hesitant, like he's maybe trying to think of a way to talk Louis out of it, convince him that they don't have to do this if Louis' really not ready. Louis can see all these things in his eyes, can almost hear the words slipping past his tongue. So he leans forward to kiss him before he can.  
  
"Please, Harry," he mouths against his lips and Harry's resolve breaks. He knocks their foreheads together lightly and he's almost panting now, cursing lightly.  
  
"Fuck, okay. Okay, just- just stay here a minute, yeah?"  
  
Louis nods automatically, shuffling back so Harry can get up from the bed. He doesn't know what to do with his body then. Should he lie down? Turn over? Oh, god. He realizes he's not even sure who is doing what here. Maybe he just assumed? He suddenly feels overwhelmed, like a little kid playing pretend.  
  
Before he can make any decisions about where to position himself, Harry returns. He's holding a small bottle in his hand with a square foil packet tucked between his long fingers. He deposits the items on the bed and crawls on his knees until he's facing Louis on the mattress. He takes Louis' head between his hands and kisses him once gently.  
  
"Okay?" he asks.  
  
Louis smiles and nods weakly. "Yeah."  
  
"Okay... How do you- How do you want me?"  
  
"Christ," Louis breathes raggedly, "I- I don't know," he stutters, suddenly feeling unbelievably inept and  _needing_  Harry to take charge of this. Harry seems to sense it.  
  
"Shh, it's okay," he forces Louis to look at him. "Hey. It's just me..."  
  
Louis takes a few deep breaths and tries to relax. He nods, allowing Harry to kiss him gently. Harry starts leaning back then, pulling Louis with him until he's on top of him.  
  
"Is this okay?" he asks, stroking Louis' arms on either side of his head. Louis bites his lip and nods quickly.  
  
"Okay. Can you hand me that bottle?"  
  
Louis nods again, sitting up to fetch the bottle that Harry sat on the bed before. His fingers hover over the condom but Harry stops him.  
  
"Not yet."  
  
Louis turns to face Harry again just in time to see him pouring some of the contents of the bottle onto his fingers, watching the way the clear liquid coats them, drips down between the digits. Louis holds his breath unknowingly as Harry bends his knee up and brings his coated fingers down between his body, past his cock and right to the divide of his cheeks, pulling himself apart and circling his hole. Louis is mesmerized. He can't take his eyes away as Harry teases himself open. His breath hitches when Harry slowly slips his index finger inside, pushing easily into himself. He chances a glance up at Harry's face, heart rabbiting painfully when he sees Harry staring straight at him, pupils blown wide and mouth slack. Louis thinks he looks so fucking beautiful like this.  
  
He could stare at Harry's face like this for the rest of the night, but his curiosity overrides the desire. His eyes go back to where Harry is fucking himself open and he curses gently when he sees that Harry has added another finger and is thrusting them in and out at a steady pace now, curing and pulling them apart ever so often. He makes little noises in the back of his throat, breathing heavily through his nose. Louis is so turned on by the image that he starts rutting slowly against the mattress to get some relief.  
  
"Are you almost...?" He can't even finish.  
  
"Yeah," Harry breathes swiftly. And it's maybe only seconds later when he finally pulls his fingers out.  
  
"Condom," he calls, voice strained. Louis reaches behind him for it. He thinks of handing it to Harry first before remembering that he's the one that's supposed to wear it. Harry smiles at him, reaching up to sweep his fringe out of his eyes. Louis bites his lip, tearing the foil open and rolling the condom on while Harry idly strokes his own stomach, purposely avoiding his swollen cock. Harry grabs a hold of the bottle he used earlier and pours some more of the liquid into his hand. Louis jumps a little when he feels Harry's hand wrap around him, coating the condom thoroughly with the substance. He groans when Harry stops, but almost whimpers when Harry scoots down the mattress a little and brings his legs back, folding over on himself slightly. Louis takes the hint and leans over him, placing his hands on the undersides of Harry's knees to hold his legs in place. Harry's reaching down to stroke Louis' thigh then, gently encouraging him to move forward.  
  
"Just- slow, okay?" Harry whispers, and Louis suddenly doesn't know for whose sake he means. He bites his lip nervously, his movements pausing.  
  
"Alright?" Harry strokes his thigh tenderly.  
  
"Yeah. Sorry. I'm just- I'm kind of freaking out here and you... You don't seem very nervous."  
  
Harry goes a little red in the face then, more-so than he already is and suddenly Louis just knows. Harry's done this before. Of course he has. He feels like he isn't allowed for it to hurt the way it does, the reality of that. He can't be upset over it, has no right to be, not after the things he's done. But the confirmation of it still hits Louis so abruptly that he aches.  
  
"Louis...please," Harry croaks, "I can't-"  
  
Louis' cock nudges against the tight ring of muscle of Harry's hole then, causing the younger boy's words to die on his lips as he cries out softly. Louis almost freezes then, the heat flowing though his insides loud and demanding. Harry writhes beneath him, his now nearly black eyes begging Louis to  _move_. Louis' heart hammers in his chest as he makes the decision to slowly drive forward, the head of his cock disappearing inside the searing heat of Harry's body. Louis watches where they're connected until he can't anymore and has to snap his eyes shut. It's all too much to take at once; the sensation combined with the visual of his body pushing into Harry's, the sounds of desperate panting beneath him as Louis carefully sinks into him inch my inch.  
  
Louis has to bite back his own whimpers, arms trembling where they hold Harry's legs in place. He's a bit dizzy, the fact that he's  _inside_  Harry too much for his mind to fully comprehend. Harry accepts him until Louis is buried to the hilt inside of him, the tight muscles of Harry's body massaging Louis' cock, causing him to lose his breath completely. He has to release Harry's legs then and sink down to hover above him on his forearms. Harry's legs wrap around his waist and his arms come up to encircle his sweaty back.  
  
"You can... Move, please," Harry whispers desperately and it's like a shock to Louis' system. He pulls out slowly and at the same time that he leans down to kiss Harry gently, drives back in.  
  
"Hnng," Harry groans, mouth slackening. His head falls back into the pillow as Louis finds a slow rhythm in and out of him, thrusting as carefully as he can manage.  
  
"God, Harry. You feel..so good," Louis whispers brokenly, pushing his forehead against Harry's as he rocks him into the mattress.  
  
"Does it feel good?" he continues breathlessly, "for you?"  
  
Harry lets a breath go and digs his nails into Louis' back, "god, yes."  
  
Louis groans louder than he means to then and has to bite against Harry's shoulder to muffle the sound. His pace quickens and then slows, back and forth like he's unsure of what his or Harry's limits are.  
  
He's babbling in Harry's ear now, knows he's going to come any minute, "You're so..fuck. I don't know if I can..."  
  
Harry's hands roam down until they're palming Louis' ass, nails scraping softly into the flesh there as Louis fucks in and out of him.  
  
"It's okay," he chokes, "It's okay. You can go fast."  
  
Louis almost cries out in relief as he starts snapping his hips furiously until he's pumping in and out of Harry in a quick rhythm. Harry makes tiny aborted noises against his ear, which only serve to spur Louis on. Louis can feel the thick line of Harry's twitching erection beneath his belly, sliding wetly against his skin with every thrust. He feels Harry reach down to grab a hold of it, stroking himself hard and fast as Louis drives into him almost recklessly now.  
  
"Oh, god," Louis cries, and he actually feels tears spring to his eyes at how  _good_  this feels. Like nothing he's ever felt before. Nothing close to this. He's never felt anything better than the way Harry feels around him right now. He's positively dizzy with it. The tight coil in his belly builds and builds with every thrust into Harry's perfect heat, and when Harry's warm breath and wet mouth cover his ear in a desperate whimper of his name, Louis comes hard and without warning.  
  
He has to bury his mouth against Harry's throat to keep from crying out. He continues to thrust in and out even though his motions are now incoherent and sloppy. He goes until he literally can't anymore. Harry is still pumping himself furiously, mouth against Louis' ear as he whispers a litany of half formed declarations.  
  
"Lou, I lo-. I- Oh, fuck."  
  
Louis dips his head to watch Harry shoot all over his own stomach a few seconds later, thick ropes of milky white spilling onto his pale skin. When Louis looks up he sees Harry's big hand on his mouth, closing off the cries in his throat as he shakes through the wave of his orgasm. Louis is awestruck. He pulls Harry's hand away and slides their mouths together, messy and hot, before pulling out and collapsing on top of him. He feels Harry's legs drop from around his waist then, body spent.  
  
He breathes harshly against Harry's neck where his face is buried. He tries to form words, but all he can manage to do is shut his glazed eyes and breathe heavily, try to recover as Harry strokes his hair with a heavy hand.  
  
"Are you okay?" he hears Harry whisper a few minutes later, breath warm against the side of his head. Louis huffs a gentle laugh against Harry's neck and manages to lift his heavy head to look at him. Harry's looking back with the same glazed, worn-out expression, cheeks flushed pink and he's so fucking gorgeous Louis almost forgets what he was about to say.  
  
He nods dumbly, "More than. That was... God, that was-" He laughs a little deliriously, forehead falling against Harry's. He can't even finish he's so overwhelmed. And Harry seems just as giddy and content, because he's suddenly laughing too. Louis leans down to kiss him softly for a few minutes before propping up on his knees and maneuvering himself off the bed, pulling Harry, who only protests a little, with him.  
  
Surprisingly, Louis remembers how to turn Harry's shower on (the knobs were always a little complicated) and when the hot spray hits him, it feels amazing. So amazing he thinks he could maybe sleep right here if he wanted to, standing up, balanced against the hard wall of Harry's body.  
  
Harry washes them both down with just his hands and some lightly scented body gel. Louis stays still, lets Harry's large hands burn all over his still-buzzing skin. He feels high almost, like he's been drugged or something, just by how good he feels right now, how happy he is. He supposes he doesn't really say anything or move for a bit, as Harry's voice jars him out of his own head.  
  
"Alright there?"  
  
"Yeah," Louis assures, a smile bending his lips, "I just can't believe we... finally."  
  
Harry lets a deep breath go against Louis' soaked hair.  
  
"Me either."  
  
"I think it went...well. Don't you?" He means for the question to come out cheeky, playful, but there's a hint of uncertainty in his voice.  
  
"You were amazing. You were perfect," Harry breathes swiftly against his mouth, kissing him there several times softly before moving down his neck, tongue sweeping out to catch errant streams of water flowing down Louis' skin like tiny rivers.  
  
He grips the back of Harry's neck and squeezes gently. "Harry?"  
  
"Hm?" he sounds, mouth still occupied.  
  
"I think... I think I want to tell my mum."  
  
Harry's mouth stills, coming off Louis' throat as he lifts his head to face him.  
  
"What?"  
  
Louis smiles, laughs, feels so suddenly brave. "I want to tell her. About us. About me..."  
  
A slow, disbelievingly smile overtakes Harry's face and he looks so damn proud and hopeful that it makes Louis' heart soar. "Lou, that's... Are you sure?"  
  
It dawns on Louis that this isn't the first time he's thought about this. Maybe it's the first time he's seriously considered it, felt like it was something he could do; but the thought of what it would be like to hold Harry's hand in front of his family had been invading his brain since they got here. Now, for some reason, it feels really possible. Possible and not completely terrifying. Maybe he finally realized that this thing with Harry isn't going away, it  _means_  something and it changes everything. It's important and Louis suddenly needs the important people in his life to know about it, no matter what the consequences are.  
  
He smiles, clutching Harry behind the neck, "I really think so, yeah. I want to tell her, Harry. I think if I could do it right now I would."  
  
Louis waits for Harry's familiar look of doubt and concern over Louis' reasons for doing things to appear, uncertainty about whose benefit it's really for. He's always so adamant about Louis doing things when he's ready and not just for Harry's sake. Louis waits, but the look never comes. Harry only laughs breathlessly against him, for the first time just allowing himself to feel happy without questioning it, take Louis' promise and wrap himself up in it.  
  
"Do- Do you need me there?" he asks, "Fuck, anything you need, I'll do it."  
  
Louis just hugs him tightly and kisses the side of his head with promises that they'll figure it out in the morning and smiles into Harry's shoulder until the water runs cold.

 

000

 

Harry's room is a lot brighter than his in the morning. Louis, as usual, wakes up well before the sleeping boy at his side. Harry's breathing softly next to him, back flush against Louis' front. Louis blinks slowly, eyes focusing on the back of Harry's head, hair mussed from where he slept on it wet and still smelling strongly of shampoo. Louis noses into the back of Harry's neck, placing lazy open-mouthed kisses there.  
  
Harry stirs gently, mumbling a slew of words Louis can't quite make out and turning his head just far enough to make eye contact with Louis behind him.  
  
"Morning."  
  
Harry blinks his eyes sleepily and then smiles, "Morning. Times'it?”  
  
"Mmm, don't know," Louis yawns, "But I should probably go soon."  
  
Harry whines groggily, turning back over and pulling Louis' arm around him more tightly. "Or you could stay right here."  
  
Louis moans appreciatively, pushing his body against Harry's completely. That's when he remembers that Harry isn't wearing any clothes and neither is he.  
  
He groans again despite himself. "Don't tempt me."  
  
Harry laughs softly, head turning back so he can kiss Louis soundly.  
  
"Do you need to be somewhere?" He says it casually, and Louis wonders if maybe he doesn't remember.  
  
"Um, well we have to leave today and I, uh, I wanted to have time to talk. To my mum, you know?"  
  
Recognition blooms instantly in Harry's eyes then as if last night is suddenly rushing back in and he's finally certain it wasn't just a dream. That same broad smile comes across his face, reaching all the way to his eyes. He sits up then and rests his hand on Louis' chest.  
  
"Do you want me to come with you?"  
  
Louis just studies him quietly for a moment before answering. There's a part of him that desperately wants Harry there for moral support but there's another part of him, the more afraid part, that's scared of what might happen if this all goes wrong. What if his mum doesn't take it well? What if she's upset or can't tell Louis what she really feels because Harry's there? These are all things he's worried about.  
  
"I think- I think it's just something I need to tell her alone, maybe?"  
  
Harry doesn't appear to be upset. "No, yeah, I completely understand. Just... Promise you’ll call me if you need me, okay?"  
  
Louis nods, bringing his hand up to cover Harry's on his chest. "But when I tell her about... you and me. I want us to do that together."  
  
Harry breathes deeply then and squeezes Louis' fingers gently before leaning down to kiss him hard on the mouth.  
  
"It's gonna be fine," he says, but it sounds more like  _i'm so proud of you_.  
  
000  
  
Louis manages to get dressed and out of Harry's room in a somewhat appropriate amount of time, despite the incessant kissing that gave way to groping and Louis had finally had to hold Harry down by the wrists and ask him if he was ever planning on letting him leave his bed. Harry had only smirked underneath him but he eventually conceded, still too tired to really protest much. Louis had kissed him fondly and tucked him back under the covers with promises to call him later that afternoon.  
  
He smiles to himself and thinks of Harry and then his mum as he makes his way down the stairs. A person that doesn't cross his mind, however, is Harry's mum, Anne. So when he comes face-to-face with her in the kitchen on his way out of the house, his body literally freezes in place.  
  
She seems, if only for a moment, as equally surprised to see him. The look is gone from her eyes a second later, though, and she continues to pour milk into her tea.  
  
"Um..." He doesn't really know the right thing to say here, and he can't just walk out. Anne had been cordial to him the night before at dinner, but even Louis knew it was mostly for appearances. She doesn't ever seem like she doesn't want him around, or that she's angry with him, but more like she's hovering somewhere between caution and confusion, never quite sure how to look at him. Louis can only imagine the thoughts that flow through her head as she looks at him, a boy she hasn't seen in two years, and the way he looks back at her, a woman who quite possibly knows more of his secrets than even his own mother does. The thought unsettles him.  
  
"Um," he repeats, struggling lamely. Anne seems unbothered, clinking her spoon against the rim of her cup, eyes still trained on Louis.  
  
"Come sit," she says calmly. Too calmly. "I've got eggs on."  
  
Louis really isn't hungry, his belly suddenly twisted in an awful knot. He doesn’t want to sit, at all, but he feels like he should.  
  
He quietly takes the seat across from the older woman at the kitchen table. She hands him a plate of food and a fork before taking her own seat.  
  
"Thank you," Louis mumbles, trying to smile. She smiles politely back, sipping her tea gingerly. Louis definitely isn't hungry, but he eats anyway.  
  
The silence stretches on for what feels like forever and Louis wants nothing more than for the ground to swallow him up. It's strange, for a woman who looks so much like the boy he's crazy about, a woman who used to be like a second mother to him, to make him feel this unsettled. This. This is weird, right? He's not just crazy here. Or over-thinking this. Anne appears to be calm, but he can't help but feel like there's a storm brewing just beneath the surface of her cool exterior.  
  
Turns out, he's right.  
  
"So, have you told your mum yet?"  
  
Louis almost chokes on his mouthful of eggs, fork clanging on his plate where he's clumsily dropped it. He tries to stop his eyes from going too wide, his heart from beating too fast.  
  
"I'm...I'm sorry, what?"  
  
Anne's stoic gaze doesn't waiver. She traces the lip of her cup with her finger idly. Eventually, her mouth pulls down into a slight frown.  
  
"It's just so strange. Seeing you again. What's it been? Two? Two and a half  
years?"  
  
Louis expects something snide in the tone behind the words because it only makes sense and he wouldn't blame her but he can't find anything close to that. She doesn't seem angry, is the thing. Just, frustrated maybe, like she's trying to piece something together.  
  
"It's... Yeah, it's been a long time," he says lamely.  
  
She frowns deeper then, bringing her cup to her lips.  
  
"Forgive me," she says then, "This is all just a bit much."  
  
Louis tries to breathe. She knows. There's no way she hasn't put it together yet, and Louis suddenly feels so guilty he wants to puke. It's like he's seeing Harry's face again that first day on the pitch all over again. He knows he could try to lie right here, make up some wayward excuse to throw her off his trail, but he doesn't see the point. He's reminded suddenly that this is a woman who's known him since he was thirteen. She knows him like the back of her hand, and definitely knows what he looks like when he lies.  
  
"I'm- I'm sorry. I know this is...sudden and-"  
  
"Harry never told me anything," she cuts in calmly. "He still hasn't. But..." she pauses, carefully constructing her next words, "Two years ago, you stopped coming around and I thought it was strange but I didn't push him about it. But then... he wasn't leaving his room for days at a time and I was worried he was depressed or something. And then six months later he comes to me crying, tells me he thinks he's gay."  
  
Louis' mouth falls open and everything suddenly hurts.  
  
"Was all that... just a coincidence?" She takes a deep breath then, holding it.  
  
Louis swallows, eyes locked with Anne's and he doesn't dare look away. He won't win this one. So he lets go. He shakes his head slowly and the word leaves his mouth barely above a whisper.  
  
"No."  
  
Anne nods her head, biting lightly at her bottom lip, eyes changing like suddenly everything makes sense now. Louis' mind races, trying to find the words to explain himself.  
  
"Anne, if I could just-"  
  
"No, don't," she clips, shaking her head. He shuts his mouth and she sighs deeply. It's a while before she speaks again.  
  
"Harry's a big boy," she declares, "and I trust him. If you're back in his life, for whatever reason, I trust his judgment."  
  
"...But you don't trust me." It's not a question.  
  
Anne's lips thin and she looks unusually sad. She reaches across the table to cover Louis' hand with her own, surprising him.  
  
"I don't know everything and I don't pretend to. I'm not trying to overstep my boundaries here, but he's my son, and my concern for him comes first."  
  
Louis nods, eyes falling to the table.  
  
"I don't know what happened two years ago and I won't ask you. I just-" she cuts off then, taking a short breath. Louis raises his eyes to meet hers, silently asking her to continue.  
  
"He really missed you," she whispers, almost pained.  
  
Louis' mouth parts as he takes in a ragged breath, willing his emotions to stay in check. He searches for something to say, anything to make the woman in front of him realize that he  _knows_. He knows he screwed up but he's spent the last two months trying to fix it and he's not expecting that to count for anything in her eyes, but he needs her to understand how sorry he is. She abruptly stands before he can say anything. To his shock, she pulls him up from his seat and into a tight hug.  
  
"That wasn't my place, i'm sorry," she whispers into his hair. She continues the hug for a few moments more before pulling away. A small smile tugs at her lips, "You tell your mum thank you for last night and i'll call her, yeah?"  
  
Louis can only nod, awestruck, "Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Good boy. Don't be a stranger," she pauses a moment, "It- It's really good to have you back."  
  
She begins clearing the table then and apparently the conversation is over. Louis' free to go, just like that. He watches Harry's mum gather the dishes silently but quickly, bringing them to the sink.  
  
He can leave now, he reminds himself. But somehow he feels like he owes Harry's mum more than that. Before he knows what he's doing, he's reaching behind her to grab the dish she's rinsing. His hand overlaps hers and she pauses, turns to look at him with watery eyes.  
  
Louis leans in the kiss her cheek gently and squeezes her hand once. She smiles weakly, head bowed again as she continues to wash. Louis backs away slowly and moves toward the door to leave. He hovers in the frame, turning back around to watch her.  
  
"I'm telling her today," he says, and takes in the sight of the way Anne shuts her eyes and smiles around her quivering lips before he shuts the door softly behind himself.  
  
000  
  
The idea of actually telling his mum has time to sink in during the drive to his house. Even so, he's surprised he doesn't feel more panicked about it. Upon waking up this morning he'd fully expected to freak out and begin the process of groveling to Harry for forgiveness over the fact that he just couldn't go through with telling her. But he didn't feel anything close to that, an odd sense of calm settling over him instead. It occurs to him that she won't even be the first to know. He'd practically told Harry's mum in so many words. Even if he was only confirming what she already suspected, it was still someone else that knew outside of him and Harry, someone that mattered. The important thing is he'd told someone and the world hadn't come crashing down. It feels like there's something loosening in his chest, little by little, allowing him to breathe easier with each turn.  
  
The idea of telling his mum the truth is equal parts scary and exhilarating. Part of him is afraid, but the other part, a bigger part, wonders what it will feel like to finally not have this uncomfortable weight on his chest anymore. He wonders what it will feel like to kiss Harry in broad daylight, maybe over a family dinner, in plain view of his family's eyes. He can almost taste the freedom in it.  
  
When he opens the door to his house with shaky hands, he's met with an onslaught of high-pitched yelling; Lottie screaming at Jay, Jay screaming at Lottie; Wild hand-gestures and angry words overlapping other, angrier words. Louis' brain doesn't even know where to start. He can only watch, dumbfounded at the door, listening for whatever pieces of the conversation he can make out. When Lottie starts screaming something particularly out of line, that's when he steps in.  
  
"Hey, both of you, stop! What the hell is going on?" Jay and Lottie both freeze and turn toward him, startled at his sudden presence.  
  
"Lou..." his mother starts, eyes softening. He stares at her blankly for a moment, waiting for more, but is distracted by Lottie stomping back up the stairs.  
  
"This conversation is not over, young lady!" his mum yells.  
  
"Mum, wait a minute," he pulls her onto the couch, forcing her to sit. "What's going on?"  
  
At first he thinks it's just a typical argument, probably something to do with school or over a boy, but when his mother's face crumples and she starts crying into her hands noisily, alarms go off in Louis' brain.  
  
"Mum, please," he pulls her hands free. She wipes her eyes quickly and tries to catch her breath. "You're scaring me."  
  
She shakes her head and takes his face in her hands, "Oh, no, sweetheart. I'm fine, it's okay. This is just...things have just been hard lately."  
  
"What do you mean? What's going on?"  
  
It's then that Jay drops a bomb that makes Louis' heart plummet into his stomach. “ _It's your dad,_ ” she says. ” _He wants to come home,_ ” she says. And the information makes Louis' brain feels like it's about to explode.  
  
 _His dad_. The guy who fucked off two years ago after the divorce and hasn't been around since. The guy who left them alone, left his mum alone with five kids to take care of.  
  
The next few hours are a blur of his mum trying to explain to him what's really been going on at home since he's been away without crying. It's an onslaught of information and Louis can barely wrap his head around it. All he gets is that his dad called out of blue about a month ago. Lottie found out and has been keeping in contact with him. She wants him to come home. Jay doesn't. They fight over it almost every day.  
  
Louis feels terrible. How is it that things managed to get this bad and he didn't know about it? Had he really been so wrapped up in his own life that something this big had slipped through the cracks?  
  
His mum apologizes profusely about unloading this on him, like he's some stranger who's only listening to her vent out of the kindness of his heart. It only compounds his guilt further. Louis takes in his mother's face - the dark circles under her red eyes that seem much more apparent now than they did yesterday. She looks so tired, withdrawn and on the verge of cracking. So he does all he can do for the time being. He holds her and lets her cry and tells her he loves and supports her, ignores the way he'd hoped the situation might have been reversed had he done what he was intending to do upon coming home. He can't now though. How could he?  
  
He wants to tell her so badly about Harry, about him and Harry. And he can feel the fresh wave of disappointment, that loose feeling in his chest tightening back up with each passing minute he doesn't tell her the truth.  
  
 _I'm gay.  
I'm in a relationship.  
It's Harry. It's always been Harry._  
  
The words only slip away, back into hiding until Louis can't find them anymore. He holds his mum as she cries but all he sees is the image of Harry in the back of his mind, how he had looked so  _happy_  and  _proud_  that Louis was taking this step for himself, for  _them_. Louis tries to erase the image from his brain. He doesn't want to remember it because he's going to be the one responsible for destroying it when he goes to pick Harry up later. Always disappointing him. Over and over.  
  
 _'im leaving here soon. be ready in a half? x'_  he texts Harry, hoping it's casual enough not to arouse suspicion.  
  
 _'ready when you are x'_  
  
Louis' heart sinks.  
  
His mum kisses him a million times and hugs him so tightly he looses his breath. She helps him pack and leaves him with phrases like ' _I missed you so much'; 'When are you coming back?'; ' **Call**  next time'; 'Oh, and bring Harry with you, I hardly got to see him'; 'He's such a lovely, lovely boy'._  
  
And then he's alone in his car, his mum waving sadly from the top of the driveway, keeps going until he's turned the corner.  
  
He drives extra slowly on the way back to Harry's. He doesn't want to see his face yet, doesn't want to have to show up empty handed after he'd made Harry so  _sure_  of him. He tries to tell himself that it isn't his fault but it doesn't lessen the guilt.  
  
When he pulls up to the curb in front of Harry's home, he fidgets with his mobile for longer than necessary, a deep frown etched onto his face. It's several minutes later before he finally has the courage to send the text.  
  
 _'outside x'_  
  
He doesn't receives a response, but instead sees Harry exit the house a minute later, overnight bag slung over his shoulder as he kisses his mum goodbye one last time. He's smiling widely as he walks toward Louis' car and Louis' insides twist guiltily. Anne waves them off and Louis puts his best false smile on as Harry loads his bag into the backseat.  
  
The happy glow in Harry's eyes is still there when he's finally in the car. Louis' smile doesn't falter.  _Just until Anne's out of viewing distance._  
  
He isn't fooling Harry though, who immediately picks up on the fact that something is wrong. As Louis rounds the corner of the street, he can make out Harry biting his lower lip nervously from the corner of his eye.  
  
"Is... Did it go okay? Are you alright?"  
  
Louis thinks he maybe makes it about another block before the tears start coming. He lets a breath go, knuckles white against the steering wheel.  
  
"Woah, woah. Lou? What happened?"  
  
Louis just shakes his head, tears spilling hotly over his cheeks. He wipes at his eyes furiously, turning another corner.  
  
"Louis. Pull over."  
  
"No. No, i'm fine. It's nothing."  
  
" _Louis_. Pull the car over now."  
  
Louis sighs in frustration but does as he's told. He brings the car to a stop a few houses down in front of a lot that's been vacant for years. Harry's silent after Louis turns the ignition off and then some. Louis doesn't have to wonder if he's waiting for him to speak. But despite all the things he desperately wants to say, no words seem to be coming.  
  
He feels Harry's fingers graze his shoulder. "Please," he says lowly, "Whatever it is you can tell me. It'll be okay…"  
  
The words leave his mouth of their own volition. "No, it won't be."  
  
"Louis..."  
  
Louis crosses his arms on the steering wheel and lets his face rest there, "I really was ready, Haz," he whispers brokenly.  
  
The car is silent for several moments after that as the quiet admission sinks in for both of them. He's not brave enough to look at Harry just yet, wants to preserve the image of him happy for a little bit longer, even if only for a few seconds.  
  
Harry clears his throat after a while, voice rough like he's trying his hardest to hold his disappointment back. "What happened?"  
  
Louis sits back but still doesn't look at Harry, eyes going crossed where they're focused on the wheel.  
  
"After I left yours, I drove home but when I got there my mum was crying and- and she and Lottie were fighting and-"  
  
"Why was she crying? Is she okay?"  
  
"It- It's my dad, Harry."  
  
He can't see Harry's face, but he can hear him take in a harsh breath over the news, can only imagine what he's thinking.  
  
"Your dad?  _What about him?_ " He almost sounds angry, maybe as angry as Louis felt when his mum had told him what was going on earlier. He can almost feel that fierce sense of protectiveness wrap around him even though Harry isn't even touching him anymore.  
  
"You know how he fucked off a few years ago?"  
  
It's a few seconds before he hears a quiet, "...yeah," from the passenger's seat. Of course he remembers. He was there for Louis through all of it, the best fucking friend he could ever have asked for.  
  
"Well," Louis sniffs, "Now he's calling my mum, trying to come back home and Lottie wants him to and just...things are really shit at home and I had  _no_   _idea_...Fuck, I don't know how this even happened, Harry. I didn't know what the fuck was going on and I just couldn't unload that on her after that." His words are coming fast now, "I'm just- I'm so sorry. I swear I wanted to. I still want to," he finally looks to Harry then, eyes wild, "Just say the word and-"  
  
Harry almost lurches forward, grabbing Louis by the arm, "Louis. Lou, stop. It's okay."  
  
Louis' head falls back against the seat, eyes shutting, "No, it's not. This is not okay. I told you I was going to do this..."  
  
Harry's eyebrows come together, "Louis you don't... You don't  _owe_  me this."  
  
Louis sighs miserably, "Yes, I do."  
  
" _Hey,_ " he protests fiercely, " _No_. You don't.  _Look at me_."  
  
Louis meets his gaze. "This," he gestures between them, "You and me, it's got nothing to do with when you talk to your mum. That's for you. I would never-"  
  
"It-" Louis clips, "It's not  _fair_  though. It's not fair that you have to keep waiting for me. It's not fair that I keep expecting you to..."  
  
Harry scoffs lightly and Louis turns to look at him. He's got his foot on the seat, elbow resting at his knee with his head in his hand, fingers carding through his hair in frustration.  
  
"Lou, you act like I was out in a day or something. It wasn't that simple. I'm still not completely out, really. I mean, the important people know and if someone asks me, I don't lie about it. But it's complicated. Especially now that i'm at school. Especially now that you and I have... Well, it's just delicate, you know?"  
  
Louis knows the words are meant to comfort him, make him not feel like he's let Harry down even though he can't help but feel like he has. It's the kind of guilt that feels so permanent he's not sure anything at this point, except having the truth out, would relieve him of it.  
  
Harry shakes his head, "I hate that I made you feel that way. I don't want you to feel like i'd ever push you or put you in a position..."  
  
"I know," he cuts Harry off softly, "I know you wouldn't."  
  
Harry looks at him firmly, eyes holding him in place. " _Ever._ "  
  
Louis shuts his eyes and sighs. Harry takes his hand across the console.  
  
"I just feel like i'm setting you back," Louis whispers.  
  
Harry grips his hand tightly and turns his body so he's facing Louis. He reaches his other hand out and pulls Louis in by the neck. "Please don't... Lou, I don't want to mess this up, okay?" his voice catches a little, sounding desperate, "I don't care what we have to go through... or how long it takes. I'm not  _going anywhere_."  
  
"But-"  
  
"You're  _not_  holding me back... I'm right where I want to be."  
  
Before Louis can protest further Harry pulls him in by the collar of his shirt to kiss him firmly. Louis has to raise up over the console to keep their mouths attached. Harry doesn't let him go for several seconds, as if the kiss will do away with any doubts his words couldn't.  
  
Every bite of Louis' teeth and press of his fingers says  _I really really don't deserve you_  while every reassuring swipe of Harry's tongue says  _Well, you've got me. You've got me_ , and Louis holds on to that all the way home, even well past when the mood has been lifted and he's got Harry in stitches the entire car ride back. The sound of his laughter fills Louis up with a feeling so good he thinks he could live inside of it forever.  
  
Louis jokes and Harry laughs and they play hideously awful road trip games and talk about their friends and  _they're fine_. They're perfect. It's times like these where Louis remembers how much he loved being best friends with Harry. It's so much more now, of course, something so big and terrifying but also _amazing_ and indescribable that it takes Louis' breath away sometimes. It hits him about half way home that he's never been so sure of something as he is of this, as he is of Harry, and it's a little scary but also not.  
  
Even if he didn't get to tell his mother today. Even if he can't tell her tomorrow, or the day after that, he at least knows for sure that he  _wants to_. He wants his entire family to know. And...and maybe more than that. He thinks of Liam and Zayn and Niall, his best friends for the past two years; Friends who have been there for him through everything; Friends who have taken Harry in as one of their own; People he trusts more than anything. Yeah, maybe he wants them to know, too. He thinks maybe, just maybe, this is something he can do even though it terrifies him.  
  
When he glances over at the boy next to him and sees his face light up in response, he thinks that if no one ever had one supportive thing to say to him when the truth comes out, he'd still be okay somehow, as long as he still had Harry next to him. That's really all he needs, after all. He may have done some unforgivable things on his way to figuring that out, but he thinks he could maybe spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it if it meant being able to keep this always.  
  
Louis is thankful that it's dark when they pull into the football teams' complex, if only for the reason that no one's able to see the way Harry maneuvers over the console and straddles Louis' hips, plunging his tongue passed his lips when he opens his mouth to speak. He pulls back a few moments later, an obscene smacking sound filling the small car.  
  
"Hmm, what was that for?" Louis asks, dazed, "Not that i'm complaining..." He doesn't actually expect an answer as he moves in for another kiss, but Harry sits back, a smirk on his lips. Louis tries not to whine.  
  
"Just something to remember me by tonight."  
  
"What? You're not staying?"  
  
Harry hums, ducking his head down to kiss along Louis' throat, "Can't. I've got an exam in the morning. Haven't studied."  
  
Louis pouts but also smirks, "Whatever were you doing this weekend, if not revising?"  
  
"Mmm...you." Louis gasps as Harry bites against the line of his jugular.  _Yes_.  _They’re definitely doing that again_. He tries to move his hands then, only to realize that Harry has them locked down at his sides by his wrists. He makes a noise of protest but Harry only laughs and eventually sits back.  
  
"Sorry, love. I know how handsy you get."  
  
Louis scoffs, "Oh, I'm handsy? Funny that. I think the shape of  _your_  hands is permanently burned into my arse by now."  
  
Harry laughs against his mouth, but he doesn't argue.  
  
"Okay. Okay I really do have to go now," Harry says after a few more minutes of kissing.  
  
"MmmHmm."  
  
"No, really. Lots of revising. No sex until after my exams are over."  
  
Louis looks affronted, "Not even...?"  
  
"No."  
  
Louis pouts. Harry pats his cheek playfully and leans over him to grab his bag from the backseat. Louis grabs his arm before he can exit the car.  
  
"Styles. I'm going to make you pay for this," he says lowly, eyes half-hooded.  
  
Harry leans in close to his ear, voice rough, "Can't wait."  
  
Louis shivers as Harry climbs off of his lap and gets out of the car.  
  
"Think of me." He wiggles his eyebrows, tossing his bag over his shoulder and heading toward his flat. Louis watches him go and then has to rest his head against the steering wheel for a moment, breathing evenly to calm himself down. He doesn't exactly want to greet Niall with a raging hard-on.  
  
Speaking of Niall, Louis sees his name flashing on his phone when he grabs his bag from the backseat and begins walking to his flat. When he finally gets inside, he opens his neglected phone to a slew of unread text messages. His eyebrows draw together, scrolling down until he gets to the beginning. He only makes it past the first few before opening the door to his bedroom.  
  
4:34p.m.  
 _'hey call me'_  
  
4:41p.m.  
 _'answer ur phone'_  
  
5:02p.m.  
 _'when r u coming back? please call its important. she wont leave and...'_  
  
"Hi, Lou."  
  
He jerks backwards at the voice, tinny and light and so familiar, and yet the dread that settles in his stomach is quick and intense. He sways on the spot for a moment, slowly dropping his overnight bag to the floor, eyes never leaving the figure seated on his bed.  
  
"Eleanor," he breathes, "What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
His unwelcoming tone seems to startle her, but considering the way they left things, he doesn't know why she's surprised. He watches her swallow nervously and bite into her lower lip.  
  
His mind races, eyes taking inventory of his surroundings. It's late, too late for a casual visit. There are dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks are flushed and red, like she's been crying. His eyes travel down to where her small hands are resting against her abdomen.  
  
"Lou...," she whispers.  
  
And no. Please, no.  _No_.  
  
"I'm pregnant."


	14. Chapter 14

**ESSEX, ENGLAND | 5 MONTHS EARLIER**  
  
It happened really fast.  
  
Louis had been on his way back from the store. He'd finally broken down and gone, remembering that with Niall off in Mullingar for the month, he'd actually have to fend for himself for a while. He remembers the quietness as he drove home, the only decipherable sound the incessant tumbling about of a satchel of apples in his backseat.  
  
It happened really fast.  
  
He never saw the car. He only felt the moment of impact, being lifted from the ground violently and sliding, sliding, sliding; the sound of crumpling metal screaming in his ear. In the span of what felt like an eternity, which in reality was surely only a few seconds, Louis felt his fear and shock melt into an eerie calm. He didn't feel the sharp edges of pain, didn't feel much of anything really at first, his brain slipped into some weird state of flux, where all he heard was white noise.  
  
It happened really fast. And it wasn't at all like it is in the movies.  
  
There were no immediate ambulance sirens, or police, or some stranger running to his rescue asking _'_ _are you alright?_ '; No one saying ' _stay calm. help is on the way_.'  
  
It happened really fast and Louis was alone. Time felt like it slowed down and for what felt like an eternity he'd wondered if anyone was coming, if anyone would ever come. He remembers the breath leaving his lungs. He remembers not being able to move his right leg without searing pain. He remembers a dull ache settling in the side of his head. He remembers the shift - that turning point when your whole world is suddenly being set off-kilter without any kind of warning and you either fight it or you let it take you under. And he thinks maybe he felt everything slip away in that moment and for a split second he remembers letting it go freely, deciding to stop fighting.  
  
He didn't see his life flash before his eyes or anything like that. He didn't think of all the people he loved, the people he'd hurt, the people he might never have the chance to see again.  
  
Those thoughts hadn't come until later.  
  
He can't remember how long he'd waited for help, staring through the hazy image of the cracked glass of his windshield, a kaleidoscope of red, red apples rolling across the street.  
  
It had come eventually.  
  
He'd learned from the doctors later that he'd blacked out several times after being hit. He took their word for it, even though he never remembers any blackness, only gapes in time that he can't account for.  
  
When he thinks back on that day, he sees things in flashes.  
  
He remembers the hospital, the way it smelled like disinfectant. He remembers Liam speaking with the triage nurse after hanging up with his mum. He remembers Zayn squeezing his hand in the examination room. He remembers almost throwing up when he saw the state of his knee, and then becoming ill for a very different reason, suddenly feeling his whole carefully constructed life start to slip away. He remembers pulling on Zayn's fingers then, worried eyes saying everything his voice couldn't. Zayn had looked down at him and stopped him with a phrase. Louis can't remember exactly, but it was something like 'w _e'll worry about it later, mate. just be grateful you're alive_.'  
  
He remembers how the words had stuck with him, made him feel funny. He remembers how that feeling never left him, even after the shock of the accident had worn off and he was safe at home with his mum and sisters.  
  
Those words had made him feel like he wanted to escape his own skin, rearrange, fix something he wasn't completely sure of yet.  
  
Even after the news that he was expected to make a full recovery, that his life would go back to normal soon, he never felt that sense of relief he'd so desperately expected to. It never came. Even though it was being offered to him with no strings attached, his perfect life back to him, like this accident was only just a bump in the road, Louis never felt like he could accept it for some reason. It had felt almost wrong, allowing himself to go back.  
  
Maybe it was the trauma of the accident, or all the pain meds, but it didn't take Louis long to find out that no matter what, nothing was ever going to be the same again after that. It couldn't be.  
  
After the accident, he started sensing all the things that were missing in his life, the gaping holes he'd thrown rugs over and tried to remember not to step on. And once he started, he couldn't stop.  
  
He broke up with Eleanor a week later.  
  
000  
  
" _Louis_."  
  
Louis' eyes snap up and land on where his ex-girlfriend sits on his bed, hands still locked together over her belly. Her face is swollen and blotchy from crying. He realizes he still hasn't spoken. She looks at him with pleading eyes, and he opens his mouth only to close it again.  
  
He's not sure how many minutes have passed, his brain racing to catch up, come to terms with the words  _i'm pregnant_. She said them so simply, but no matter how hard he tries Louis can't make any sense out of them.  
  
"Did you hear what I said?" The desperation in her voice draws him back again.  
  
His eyes fly to hers, a fire stoking in his gut. Of course he heard her. He just can't. This isn't. He doesn't know how to deal with this. None of it feels real. It's like he's stepped into a nightmare he can't wake up from.  
  
When her pleas go unanswered yet again, she bolts up from the bed. The movement startles Louis, who takes several steps backwards before she can make contact. Hurt and confusion come over her face. He just. He doesn't think he can be touched right now. Especially by her.  
  
His hand curls over his mouth. He's afraid to hear his own voice, like somehow if he answers her it will make this all real and  _no_. No, this can't be real. This doesn't make sense. This wasn't supposed to happen.  
  
This isn't right.  
  
"I don't know how to do this if you won't talk to me," she says sometime later. Louis doesn't know when. Time seems to have stopped. She's crying though, full on and Louis searches for any kind of emotion he can access to pull him out of his shock. He shakes his head over and over.  
  
"No," he finally breathes as he tries to push the panic back.  
  
Eleanor's eyebrows raise. "No? That's really all you have to say to me?"  
  
Louis shakes his head again. "No, I don't- I don't understand."  
  
Her eyebrows cinch. Louis watches her where she stands in the middle of his room, looking so incredibly small and fragile, but also fiercely determined in a way he's rarely ever seen her.  
  
"What don't you understand?"  
  
"How this happened. I- fuck," Louis pushes his fingers against his tired eyes and takes a deep breath, voice shaking, "How did this happen?"  
  
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she laughs humorlessly.  
  
He doesn't answer her.  
  
"We had sex. We didn't use anything. And i'm pregnant now."  
  
She says it sharp and clinically, like she's explaining something to a small, insolent child. Louis shakes his head, starts pacing across his room. If only he could see straight, force his brain to cooperate and assess the situation like an adult. He waits and waits, but nothing.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you, Louis?" she snaps, "Why are you acting like this?"  
  
He feels something spark to life inside of him then. He stops pacing.  
  
"Why am I acting like this? How do you expect me to act?" He rounds on her, the most reactive he's been since she dropped this bomb on him. He's terribly aware of the painful thumping creeping into his chest now, feels his walls start to crumble as the reality sets in.  _No. Not yet_ , he thinks.  
  
"You show up at my flat in the middle of the fucking night-"  
  
"Well what else was I supposed to do?" she cuts him off, "It's not as if I can get you to even talk to me these days-"  
  
"The last time I saw you, you  _slapped me_. Does that really surprise you?"  
  
"You deserved it after the way you treated me!"  
  
He stops, his next set of words dying on his tongue before he can say them, because what's the point? He walks to his bed and sits down, burying his head in his hands. He hears Eleanor walk toward him and jumps when she puts her hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I- I can't do this," he blurts, standing up again to move away from her. He feels suffocated. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this."  
  
Her eyes narrow and he can't miss the tears beginning to well in them again.  
  
"You're honestly going to make me deal with this alone," she cries softly, "after everything we've been through?"  
  
He takes in a shaky breath, panic and guilt filling his chest even more.  
  
"Louis?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I just need...some time. I just-"  
  
"No," she clips, shaking her head sadly at him. "No. No amount of time is going to make this easier to deal with, Louis. You think this is just going to go away if you ignore it. Well, it's not."  
  
" _I know that,_ okay?" he snaps at her, "I just need some time to...to fucking  _think_. You want all these answers from me and you act like you didn't just turn my whole life upside down, Eleanor."  
  
"Your life? What about me? What about my life, Louis? Do you think I wanted this to happen?"  
  
He bites his tongue, doesn't answer her.  
  
"You really think I- I wanted to be pregnant at nineteen? And with someone who obviously wants nothing to do with me?" The way her voice breaks makes him wince. The way her eyes look when he doesn't refute her statement makes him feel even worse.  
  
He watches her screw her eyes shut and breathe deeply. He supposes he should be thinking of something to say to alleviate the situation, reassure her, but he doesn't. She's stepping forward and grabbing her purse then, though, and walking to his door, so he doesn't have to. Her hand pauses on the knob as she turns back to him.  
  
"However you feel about it, about me. It doesn't matter. We screwed up," she says, voice thick with unshed tears. "Now we need to be responsible.  _You_  need to be responsible."  
  
His stomach burns with a new wave of nausea. His mouth opens, a small noise breaking out but he's suddenly back to being unable to speak again.  
  
It's the question on the tip of his tongue, the one he can't ask. He doesn't end up having to.  
  
"I'm keeping it," she says lowly, surely.  
  
He doesn't watch her leave.  
  
000  
  
The only sounds Louis can hear are his heartbeat pounding in his ears and his feet hitting the pavement. He hasn't stopped running since Niall knocked on his door around sunrise before he left for class. He hasn't slept since Eleanor left. He doesn't even know if he really tried to. His eyes are still burning as he closes in on his first mile on the outskirts of campus. He tries not to think about the morning classes he's blowing off. He tries not to think about anything. Turning his mind off is something he used to be quite good at. He's struggling to remember how he did it so effortlessly before now.  
  
He used to do this in the mornings - run. It always helped him zone out. He hasn't run in a long time but he's desperate for anything to help him stop thinking. It feels good. The burning in his legs, his chest, the prickling of heat all over his skin. He counts his footfalls and tries to think of nothing.  
  
He's been able to hold it off for a while (longer than he thought he'd be able to), but he feels it there, looming on the edges of his mind, waiting to flood in. The anxiety, the fear, the panic.  
  
He doesn't want to allow himself to give in to those feelings. If he doesn't allow himself to feel it, it doesn't exist, right? If he cries and screams and begs and pleads that will only make things more real.  
  
And he's alone. He doesn't want to deal with this alone.  
  
Louis doesn't stop running, even when he feels the hot tears finally spill over his cheeks. They blur his vision but he keeps going. He breathes harshly through his nose, lets the tears burn through his tired eyes, fall silently.  
  
Just a little bit longer. Just a bit longer and someone will help him through this. Someone will help him figure this out. Zayn. Zayn will distract him, right? Take the edge off of this spectacularly fucked up situation he's gotten himself into. And Niall. Niall will help him forget by making him laugh about something stupid and unimportant. And Liam is the best with advice, always has been.  
  
Liam will listen and tell him ' _everything's going to be okay, Louis'_ , just like he did when Louis was in that hospital bed.  
  
 _'Everything's going to be fine.  
  
...You and Harry are going to be fine.'_  
  
Except he won't say that. Because he doesn't know about Harry. No one does.  
  
Louis stumbles on the pavement, knees nearly buckling under his weight. His throbbing legs only manage to carry him a few more feet before he stumbles to the side of the road and throws up violently in the underbrush.  
  
000  
  
The flat is empty when Louis finally makes it back home. He immediately goes to his bathroom and turns the shower on, stepping in before it's even close to warm. He holds his face underneath the spray and shuts his eyes, doing everything in his power to stave off his emotions.  
  
The last time he was this anxious was in Leeds. And the only thing that had brought him out of it was kissing Harry after years of repressed feelings. The source is different now, the situation different, but Harry is still all he wants.  
  
The only person who could possibly understand is Harry. Harry - the only person he wants to see but the last person he wants to have to tell this to. His legs want to carry him there, make him run to wherever the other boy is, see his face, bury himself in his arms and never come up for air. But how is he supposed to do that? It's not fair to Harry for him to want that. None of this is fair to Harry.  
  
Louis punches his fist against the tile of the shower wall, cursing as the sharp pain settles in the bones of his hand almost instantly.  
  
How could he have done this? Why did this happen? What's the point - coming this far and for what? So he can lose everything over a stupid mistake? With someone he doesn't even care about?  
  
He thinks he's being punished. Punished for all the people he's hurt, for all the times he was careless with other people's feelings. Maybe he doesn't deserve to be happy and this is the universe's way of reminding him of that. Maybe he deserves this.  
  
But Harry doesn't. Harry never deserves anything close to this.  
  
Just as he shuts the water off, Louis hears his phone ring from where he left it on his night table and his heart plummets in his chest. His insides fill with dread and he thinks he might be sick again.  
  
He pulls a towel over his shoulders and walks to his room with heavy feet, hoping whoever is calling will hang up before he makes it to the phone. He doesn't know if he can talk to anyone right now. Doesn't know what he'd even say.  
  
It stops ringing by the time Louis reaches it, but the name on the screen does its job.  
  
 **Harry  
(1) Missed Call**  
  
Louis feels his insides twist. There's a few missed text messages from Harry as well, he notices, but they're from hours earlier. After hesitating for several seconds, Louis finally opens them.  
  
 **7:52a.m.**  
 _about to fail my english exam. wish me luck! :p x_  
  
 **8:15a.m.**  
 _will you still like me if i flunk out of uni and have to live in a refrigerator box?_  
  
 **8:20a.m.**  
 _not to worry you. but its a possibility. youre a distraction you know? cant seem to stop thinking about you even when i need to concentrate x_  
  
Louis smiles shakily at them, fresh tears filling his eyes.  
  
 **8:55a.m.**  
 _call me when you get out of class yeah? want to see you x_  
  
Louis' face crumples then, tears spilling over his cheeks. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to feel this. He puts his phone back on the table and throws some clean clothes on. He knows he should call Harry back. There's no use driving him crazy with worry, but Louis' not quite ready to lose the best thing that's ever happened to him yet, so he doesn't.  
  
He makes his way to the kitchen quickly and begins throwing open different cupboard doors until he finds what he's looking for. After his third try, his eyes pause on a bright green, thick glass bottle on one of the high shelves. It's only about a quarter full, and it belongs to Niall. It's some kind of Irish whiskey, Louis notes. He doesn't really care what it is though, just knows it will burn going down and hopefully make him forget for a while.  
  
He pulls it from the shelf and unscrews the cap without hesitation and brings the bottle to his lips. He ignores the raw tenderness of his throat as he swallows the foul drink in large gulps and waits for the fallout.  
  
He silently hopes he'll pass out before it reaches him.  
  
000  
  
Harry's English exam had gone less than stellar, and that was being nice about it. He thinks maybe if he'd spent more time preparing for his exam instead of making out with Louis he'd have done a bit better, but just as well. He can't say he exactly regrets what he spent the weekend doing in lieu of studying, thinks he'd probably do it again if he could go back in time, thinks he'll  _most definitely_  do it again anyway as soon as he has the chance.  
  
Harry had made a valiant effort to not think about his boyfriend (it's still so wonderfully weird that he gets to say that, even if it's only to himself) during his test. But during the multiple choice section he'd somehow started thinking of Louis' hands and it all went downhill from there. So yeah, he's completely head over feet and it's disgusting and he should really be more concerned about his marks since he's on scholarship but  _Louis' hands_.  
  
Harry would be lying if he said the events of the weekend weren't still making his head spin in the best possible way. He'd done with Louis what he never thought he'd get the chance to do. Before they were together, it was something that had only ever been a background thought, an idea he'd entertain while drunk, or sometimes when he was alone...and maybe even when he was with people that weren't Louis.  
  
It was always just a thought though, never a longing. Just thoughts about what might have been if Louis had wanted him back two years ago. But he's so content with the way things are now, he doesn't know if he'd go back and change the way it all happened. Even though it was miserable sometimes, Harry guesses things fell together the way they were supposed to.  
  
He never thought he'd have Louis, is the thing. And now he  _does_  and it still doesn't feel quite real. And Louis seems to want him just as much. Harry's finally stopped trying to convince himself otherwise. Not after this weekend. He finally feels sure for the first time since this all started and the feeling is a warm, grounding weight inside of him.  
  
Harry thinks he should probably be more concerned with just how much of a distraction Louis has become in his life, but he's weirdly sort of okay with it, and he'd told Louis as much in his extensive one-way conversation with him through text all morning, which, uh, might have been another reason he didn't do so well on his exam.  
  
He wasn't even bothered that Louis hadn't texted him back yet. At least, not until he'd seen Niall at the beginning of their politics class later that morning. The Irish boy had shown up just as class was starting, a distracted look replacing his usual zen demeanor. He doesn't get a chance to ask Niall what's wrong until the end of their lecture. But Niall beats him to the punch, turning in his seat and grabbing Harry's attention before he can even put his notes away.  
  
"Hey, Haz, have you talked to Louis today?"  
  
Harry fumbles with his papers ineloquently and shakes his head, not thinking the unanswered texts on the phone in his pocket really count as a conversation, so.  
  
"Erm, no. Why, have you?" He tries not to sound dispirited as he waits for the other boy's answer.  
  
He almost doesn't notice the shift in Niall's features then, from distracted to genuinely concerned. An uncomfortable heat begins to settle in Harry's gut.  
  
Niall shakes his head, "I saw him this morning, but he ran out on me. I guess last night didn't go very well."  
  
"Last night? What happened last night?" Harry stutters, heart speeding up and brain moving faster than his mouth. He doesn't even know if he bothers trying to cover up the quiver in his voice. How could Niall know something that he doesn't about Louis' night?  
  
Niall doesn't seem to notice as he answers. "Eleanor showed up. She seemed out of sorts."  
  
"Eleanor?" It takes Harry a minute to place the name. He vaguely remembers Louis mentioning that they used to date. Other than that, he knows next to nothing about her.  
  
"Louis' ex," Niall supplies quickly. "Or, I guess it's his ex at least. Don't really know meself. Especially after that party a couple months ago, you know? When-"  
  
"I- Yeah. I remember," Harry stutters, cutting Niall off before he can go into more detail. Because yeah, Harry remembers. He just doesn't ever think about it, just like he tries not to think about any of the shit that happened before Leeds, before he and Louis finally got their shit together. That's all in the past now anyway, and Harry intends to leave it there. But he'd still rather not hear about it.  
  
"Well, she turned up at the flat yesterday," Niall continues, "Wouldn't leave until she saw Louis. I tried to tell her he was out of town but she wouldn't leave for nothin'."  
  
Harry's mind spins, trying to make connections with no information to go on. He didn't even know Louis still talked to her. Harry doesn't even think he knows what she looks like up close.  
  
It doesn't make sense. Why would she of all people be there? And why would Louis not tell him about it?  
  
"That's...weird," Harry offers lamely, trying desperately to keep his inner panic off his face.  
  
"Yeah. Look, i'm about to be late," Niall stands up from his seat and gathers his things quickly. "Do you mind stopping by the flat to check in? He looked awful this morning."  
  
Niall must take Harry's dumbfounded silence as agreement because he's pushing a key into Harry's hand in the next second before giving one final nod and cutting down the hallway to his next class.  
  
Harry stares at the key for a moment, before finally deciding that he can't wait that long, and pulling his phone out to dial the familiar number.  
  
He tries to ignore the twist in his stomach when Louis doesn't answer.  
  
000  
  
Louis ignores the blinking screen of his phone yet again. He's not sure how many missed calls there are now, or even who they're all from. He's pretty sure some are from Niall, but he'd silenced his phone and stopped looking once his head started feeling fuzzy around the edges. That was about an hour ago.  
  
Louis thinks he ought to feel more pathetic than he does about his current state - sitting indian style on his bed, lights turned off with an empty bottle of his flatmate's whiskey cradled between his thighs. But there's so much alcohol coursing through his system it's hard to care about appearances.  
  
Besides, who's around for him to disappoint anyway? It's not like anyone would elect to be there watching him drink his sorrows away. This is one of those fight or flight situations, or whatever the fuck it is, and Louis wouldn't blame anyone for running away from this.  
  
He wouldn't blame Harry, he decides. He's pretty sure it's more than a possibility actually.  
  
Harry will leave. He'll leave because why should he stay? What is there left for him that's worth staying for? A secret relationship with someone who was stupid enough to get his ex pregnant at a party? Having to continue to hide who he is and pretend to be someone he's not because Louis can't find the right time to be honest with his friends and family?  
  
There's nothing worth it for Harry to stay for and deep down Louis knows it. And fuck, no one will know. Harry will move on and no one will ever know about them. It will be like they never existed, like it never meant anything more than  _best friends_  burying the hatchet.  
  
People will sympathize with his situation, but no one will ever truly understand why it tears his heart apart.  
  
Louis realizes his back has fallen against the mattress when his eyes open to the sight of his ceiling as he hears the front door open. He blinks tiredly, gauging the probability that Niall will come in and check on him, trying to decide just how cross he'll be about the alcohol Louis stole.  
  
He hears a faint knock on his door seconds later.  
  
"Lou? Are you in there?"  
  
Louis' eyes snap open and his heart starts to pound, because that's definitely not Niall on the other side of the door.  
  
Louis straightens up and sets the bottle on the night table and he's halfway out of the bed when the door creaks open slowly.  
  
The sight of Harry in the doorframe makes him freeze in place.  
  
"Harry... What are you doing here?"  
  
"Why didn't you answer any of my calls?" He watches Harry stride toward him, unfazed by his previous question and with concern clear on his face. Louis must wobble a little on his feet as he stands upright because Harry pauses instantly, brows creasing.  
  
Louis watches him take inventory of the room then. He doesn't miss the way Harry's eyes pause on the empty whiskey bottle on the night table before he walks over to pick it up, read the label and set it back down again with a sharp clang.  
  
"What's going on?" Harry moves in closer, gripping Louis' face softly in his hands and pulling it straight so he can see his eyes.  
  
"Are you drunk?" he asks disbelievingly.  
  
Louis idly wonders if he looks as drunk as he feels. He doesn't think there's really much of a chance that he can lie his way out of this one though, so it doesn't really matter. He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply instead, not answering in words but Harry seems to figure it out.  
  
"Louis, look at me," Harry forces Louis' face up again, and Louis can feel Harry's long fingers where they grip into his skin firmly.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Louis whispers, voice cracking.  
  
Harry's thumbs shake against his cheeks and his voice is tight. "For what?"  
  
Louis swallows and his eyes fall despite the fact that Harry's still holding onto his face.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Hazza, I fucked everything up... You're gonna hate me. Please don't hate me."  
  
"Louis, you're scaring me. Please just tell me what happened. Whatever it is, we'll fix it, alright? Just tell me."  
  
Louis tries to shake his head.  
  
"I won't hate you. I promise. Niall- I. I talked to Niall earlier."  
  
Louis' eyes snap up quickly, worried and big.  
  
"He told me your ex-girlfriend was here last night. Is that true?" Harry asks softly. Louis thinks he doesn't even sound angry at all, just worried.  
  
Louis nods somberly.  
  
"She's- She's the one you slept with that night, isn't she? At that party a few months ago. Before Leeds..."  
  
He speaks like he's trying to put a puzzle together, slow and calculating, coaxing tiny pieces from Louis with special care.  
  
Louis mans up and saves him the trouble, the alcohol numbing everything just enough that he can say it out loud without vomiting.  
  
"Harry, she's pregnant."  
  
Louis doesn't think he'll ever forget the look in Harry's eyes at that exact moment as he lets go of Louis' face and steps backwards as if he's been slapped, wringing his wrists roughly as he takes in the words.  
  
Louis braces himself for what's to come. Surely Harry will leave now. Or yell at him and then leave. Or cry and tell him what a colossal fuck-up he is. Louis' prepared himself for all of it. He's played it out in his head over and over again for the past hour. He'll never be ready for it, but that's what the alcohol was for - to cushion the blow.  
  
But Harry only wipes a hand down his face and sighs wetly, mouth trembling before, "Just. Let's just...not freak out yet, okay?"  
  
Louis stills, waits for the other foot to drop. "Harry."  
  
The other boy shakes his head, eyes cast off like he's trying to think of what to say to help make sense of this.  
  
"Harry..." Louis repeats, shaking his head.  
  
"Will you just give me a minute to think, please?"  
  
Louis snaps his mouth shut, doesn't even think he takes a full breath in the several minutes that Harry is quiet. Quiet and unmoving. Not leaving, not yelling, just standing there. Louis doesn't know what to do.  
  
"Fuck," Harry breathes, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The catch in his voice makes Louis' heart twinge and he surges forward despite his promise to himself that he wouldn't touch the other boy (it would only make it that much harder). He wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders and buries his face against his collarbone. And pretty soon he's crying again and he can't stop talking when the words suddenly start spilling out in one long stream.  
  
"Harry, if I could go back and change it I would. I'm so sorry. I didn't even mean to do it. I fucked everything up. I know you're angry. I'm just so- I'm so sorry." Tears spill down his cheeks and onto Harry's shirt as he apologizes. He can hear his words slurring and tries not to hate himself more than he already does.  
  
Harry breathes raggedly and Louis' feels his hand at the small of his back ball into a fist.  
  
"Okay," he breathes against Louis' hair, pushing him back gently, "but that- that all happened before you and me." He stammers through the sentence, eyes wild like he's trying to scrape together any justification he can to not walk out the door and never look back.  
  
"That was before we- and i'm not mad at you," Harry says finally, voice small and desperate, wet eyes meeting Louis'. "I'm not...We'll figure it out. We have to- We'll figure something out."  
  
Louis stands there dumbfounded for several seconds before he hears himself snap.  
  
"What?" Louis hears the anger and disbelief in his voice, the feeling that he didn't even know was inside of him bubbling to the surface. This is not okay. This is  _beyond_  not okay.  
  
Louis struggles to try and think past the alcohol-induced fog in his brain, but there's no mistaking it. Instead of leaving, Harry is still standing in front of him and he's actually trying to give Louis an excuse to not feel completely shitty over this. A free pass, an out. And Louis realizes with an abrupt moment of clarity that it's  _not okay_.  
  
Louis doesn't know how much the alcohol is to blame for making his mind flip from one extreme to the next, but he's angry now. Mostly at himself, but also at the entire situation, and at Harry for still wanting him when he deserves so much fucking better than this, better than Louis.  
  
He can't let Harry do this. He can't let him try and make this okay.  
  
When is Harry going to stop giving? When is he going to stop letting Louis take?  
  
When Harry steps forward to seemingly wrap Louis up again, Louis draws back and holds his hand out in front of him to keep Harry from moving any closer. Harry's brows crease and he looks hurt.  
  
Louis drops his head and shakes it.  
  
"Why did you ever forgive me?" he bites out.  
  
"What?"  
  
"In Leeds," Louis clarifies. "Why?"  
  
It's not like Louis hasn't let the thought weigh on his mind before. He'd just been too happy to ever risk spoiling everything by bringing it up. But the question sits heavy on his conscience now and he needs to know. Because it never made sense to him how Harry had given him a second chance. It doesn't make sense to him that someone like Harry would want to be with someone like him, not now, especially not after this.  
  
"I didn't deserve it," he spits.  
  
"Louis,  _stop_."  
  
"No, you can't forgive me for this, Harry. It's too much and I can't let you."  
  
Harry looks properly annoyed then, confusion and anger blooming on his face.  
  
 _Good_ , Louis thinks.  _Give me what I deserve_.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Harry shakes his head and his voice is small, "Do you- Do you want to be with her or something?"  
  
Louis feels his eyes go wide before they narrow fiercely. "No!" he spits harshly, "How can you even ask me that?"  
  
"Well, I don't know, Louis! You're making it pretty obvious that you think this is it, yeah? Just- What do you want from me? What do you want me to do?"  
  
"I want you to get angry!" Louis snaps, "I want you to-  _hit me_ , push me away, tell me what a selfish,  _stupid_  prick I am."  
  
Harry just shakes his head, lips pulled into a tight line.  
  
"Why? Why not? It's the truth and you know it. All I do is hurt you. All i'll  _ever_  do is fucking hurt you so  _get angry_ , Harry. Come on, hit me or leave!" He steps directly in front of Harry, millimeters away, goading him.  
  
"I don't deserve you. And I never did."  
  
"No," Harry grinds out through clenched teeth, tears thick in his throat as he refuses to give into Louis' tirade.  
  
Louis almost throws his hands up, voice barely above a resigned whisper, "Why not?"  
  
Harry doesn't see the bedroom door swing open behind him, but Louis does.  
  
"Because _I'm in love with you_ ," he sobs brokenly.  
  
Louis' breath hitches and he freezes. His mouth falls open but no words come out.  
  
It takes Harry a second to look up, first at Louis, and when he sees the look on his face, around to where Niall is standing in the doorway, confusion and shock written across his features.  
  
Louis' insides jolt so painfully it almost takes his breath away. He's stuck between feeling like he wants to fly and wanting to curl into himself until he disappears and doesn't exist anymore.  
  
He thinks that if, before, he could have imagined this exact situation - he thinks he would have probably been trying to explain this away somehow, make Niall stop and listen but he doesn't feel the need to do any of that. Instead, his eyes are stuck to Harry, who's wiping at his wet face and looking back and forth between Niall and Louis like he isn't sure what he's just done.  
  
Louis' mind shouts at him to say something but he can't push any words past his tongue. Niall's eyes hold him in place. And then Harry's looking at him, expectant, before his expression turns stony when Louis remains quiet.  
  
And then he's moving away.  
  
"No. Wait."  
  
But Harry keeps moving toward the door and Niall steps back to let him through, stays silent as his eyes carefully follow his path to the front door.  
  
"Lou, whats-?"  
  
Louis doesn't spare Niall a glance as he surges forward. His limbs feel heavy and weak, like he's trying to run through water.  
  
"Harry, wait," he growls desperately, but Harry's already gone. Louis tries to push past Niall, but stumbles. Niall grabs him roughly by the waist to keep him upright, and that's when Louis gets sick all over the carpet.  
  
Niall curses, stepping back but still keeping Louis steady as he throws up the contents of his stomach until he's mostly just dry heaving.  
  
"Go on then," Niall mutters, rubbing Louis' back soothingly. Louis guesses he sees his now empty bottle of liquor on the night table then because of the next thing he says.  
  
"That'll teach you to down the rest of my Connemara, you twat." He aiming for lighthearted, but Louis can still hear the confusion in his friend's voice. Niall doesn't push him beyond that though, or say anything about what he obviously walked in on. A part of Louis is grateful for that. He'd like to at least be sober when he has that conversation.  
  
Niall helps him to the bathroom so he can clean himself up. Louis vaguely hears him on the phone a few minutes later.  
  
"Alright." Niall comes into the bathroom, pulling Louis back against him. "That was Liam. Come on, i'm taking you over to his."  
  
A part of Louis wants to protest, but he's suddenly overcome with exhaustion. So without a word, he lets Niall drag him up the stairs to Liam and Zayn's flat.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Zayn asks as soon as Niall pulls a weak-legged Louis inside the door. Liam is already there with a bottle of water, pushing it into Louis' slack hands.  
  
"Just take him, yeah?" Niall gently hands him off to the other two boys and Louis doesn't hardly feel drunk anymore, just mostly sick to his stomach, "I'll explain in a minute."  
  
Louis shoots him a pleading look then from where he's bracketed between Liam and Zayn, and Niall's eyes flicker with recognition.  
  
The Irish boy clears his throat, turning his attention back to Liam and Zayn, "Um, he just drank a little too much. Just- watch him for a bit. I'll be right back."  
  
"Where are you going?" Zayn asks, taking on Louis' full weight as Liam breaks away from them to grab something in the back bedroom.  
  
"I'm coming back. I've just got to go clean the carpets first." He wrinkles his nose a little and opens the door to head out.  
  
"Wait a minute," Louis protests weakly, pulling out of Zayn's grip and heading after Niall. He catches him just outside the door.  
  
"Niall, wait. Please, just-"  
  
"I'll be right back, Lou," he assures quickly. "Go back inside."  
  
"No," Louis shakes his head, moving in close so only Niall can hear his plea, "No, just... Please don't leave him alone. He doesn't have anyone else here. Please."  
  
His words make Niall pause, expression softening slowly before he nods in silent understanding.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Promise me," Louis pushes, fingers gripping into Niall's wrist.  
  
Niall tilts his head, watching Louis thoughtfully.  
  
"I promise," he says softly, gently pulling free from Louis' grip and turning heel back to their flat. Louis watches him until he disappears down the stairwell before he finally turns around. Zayn is there waiting for him in the doorway, but he remains silent as he helps Louis back inside.  
  
His friends put him on the couch and cover him with a blanket. Liam forces him to drink more water and take a paracetemol. It's mostly quiet though. Thankfully, they don't ask any questions.  
  
Louis doesn't know when he finally falls into sleep, but when he does, it's deep and he dreams of Harry.  
  
And he never stops running.


	15. Chapter 15

"How are you feeling?"  
  
Louis' eyes are still shut but Liam seems to sense that he's awake despite the fact.  
  
"Like shit," he mutters, opening his eyes up slowly. If his throat didn't feel so raw, he'd probably thank Liam for making him drink that gallon of water last night before he passed out. He knows with the amount of alcohol he drank yesterday he should probably feel a lot worse than he actually does.  
  
Liam's only response is a soft hum from the chair next to the couch.  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Almost eight. Your class doesn't start for another hour."  
  
"M'not going," Louis sits up slowly, ignores Liam's small look of protest, which he then seems to think better of, since he stays silent on the matter.  
  
Louis sits up until he can fold his knees against his chest. He tries to keep his movement to a minimum to avoid the dull ache in his head from growing into something sharper.  
  
Liam is staying as silent as possible, which Louis is beyond thankful for. Zayn, however, doesn't seem to hold the same consideration for Louis' current state as he wanders through the tiny kitchen, slamming cupboard doors and rattling dishes.  
  
Louis groans, letting his head rest between the tops of his knees.  
  
"Z," Liam chastises.  
  
Louis feels the couch dip a few seconds later.  
  
"Sorry, mate," Zayn apologizes, offering Louis a small mug of what he assumes is tea, which Louis accepts gratefully.  
  
He drinks in silence. Several minutes pass before the silence starts to feel strange rather than comfortable. He briefly glances over the rim of his cup to see Liam and Zayn staring at one another in silent conversation.  
  
Louis sighs, "If you have something to say, just say it."  
  
Liam's eyes flit to his, expression half apologetic and half concerned.  
  
"It's just... are you alright? Niall didn't really tell us anything. We're just worried, is all. You don't have to tell us, if you don't want to-"  
  
"Yeah, he does," Zayn interjects, causing Louis' head to snap up and Liam's mouth to turn down into a frown, though he offers no protest beyond that.  
  
Louis eyes Zayn warily.  
  
"You tried to drink yourself to death on a Monday afternoon," Zayn states bluntly.  
  
Louis flinches, "I wasn't-"  
  
Zayn ignores him. "We're your best friends, and I don't care if you don't want to, you need to tell us what's going on."  
  
Zayn's voice is firm and unwavering, and any further protests or excuses die on Louis' tongue at that point. He takes a deep breath and sets his tea down on the living room table before linking his hands together around his knees.  
  
"Eleanor's pregnant," he states. And there it is.  
  
It feels strange to say it now, like he's just numb enough that it barely pinches anymore. Like he's talking about someone else's life and not his own. Now that Harry knows, now that Harry's gone, it doesn't really matter anymore, does it?  
  
When Louis looks up to take in his friend's reactions, he finds Liam's eyebrows are up somewhere around his hairline, mouth slack. Zayn just has this expression on where he looks almost pained, like it's the last thing on earth he wanted to hear.  
  
The usual questions that Louis might expect now aren't vocalized. There's no point really. They all know when it happened. They all know where, they all know how. And so Liam and Zayn don't ask for details and Louis doesn't offer any up and he's at least thankful he doesn't have to explain that part of it again. He doesn't know if he could.  
  
"I'm sorry, mate," Zayn offers after a minute, voice dragging and matching the grimace on his face. Louis is a little surprised to see how Zayn seems to understand and accept his feelings toward all of this without Louis having to even say it. Louis wonders if it was just his alcohol binge that tipped Zayn off or something else, but he doesn't press it.  
  
When Liam gets his bearings, he finally speaks.  
  
"So, um, wow, Lou. I'm sorry, I don't really know what to say, I guess."  
  
"It's okay, Li," Louis offers softly, sitting back against the arm of the couch. "You don't have to say anything. There's not really anything to say."  
  
Liam nods sadly, seems to sense that this isn't something Louis is even remotely happy about as the minutes wear on.  
  
"So, she's...keeping it, then?"  
  
"Yeah," Louis clips, stomach pinching, and he suddenly feels sick again. Guilty and so, so sick. Because it's not as if he'd ever want- Before this, he never imagined that he would ever even entertain the idea of- He can't even say it. Not even in his own head. But it's true and he feels so selfish for it.  
  
It's not that he doesn't want his child, he just doesn't want that  _life_. He sees that life in his head -- the wife, the kid, the white picket fence; the life he was most likely headed for if Harry hadn't shown back up and thrown Louis' carefully constructed world off his axis -- he sees that life now in his head but can't see himself in it, can't truly imagine himself there and happy in any real way. Because Harry isn't there and Louis doesn't think he's capable of living a life that Harry's not in anymore.  
  
"So...are you two..." The way Liam talks is like he's trying to pull teeth, so Louis takes mercy on him.  
  
"We're not getting back together, if that's what you're about to ask."  
  
"Okay," Liam breathes, trying to keep his tone even and non-confrontational, "but don't you think..."  
  
"I'm with someone," Louis blurts, a little harshly even, because Liam doesn't  _get it_ , and that effectively startles the other boy silent. Louis' heart skips as the confession falls from his lips. It surprises him how good it feels to say; the way the truth, even a truth as vague and under-explained as this one, sets something free inside of him.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yeah," Louis mumbles, eyes carefully watching Liam's face. He notices that his friend looks confused more than anything else, like he can't wrap his mind around the confession. Louis can see him trying to figure out how he missed something as big as this.  
  
"Do we know her? I mean, how long have you...?"  
  
Louis sighs audibly, "Li, I. I'm sorry, I just can't do this right now, okay? I know I have a lot to explain. And I will. Just...not now. Please."  
  
Liam's worried look is back again then, but he relents and doesn't ask for any further explanation.  
  
Zayn's gone strangely quiet beside Louis. Uncharacteristically quiet. And instead of calming him, it makes Louis feel more anxious than ever. After all, wasn't Zayn the one adamant about Louis spilling his guts in the first place? He doesn't appear to have anything to say about this newfound piece of information though, this big secret that Louis' been keeping from all of them, and that fact somehow causes a feeling of dread to settle in Louis' chest instead of relief.  
  
Liam excuses himself when Louis pretends to fall back asleep some time later, mumbling that he'll be back later that afternoon after his classes are over, and for Zayn to please keep an eye on Louis in the meantime. Louis wonders if Liam really believes Louis can't hear him or if he simply doesn't care.  
  
Louis doesn't open his eyes again until Zayn's weight is gone from the couch and he hears the sliding door of the balcony porch open and shut.  
  
This is his chance to leave, he thinks. Zayn isn't watching him, instead focused on the view outside. He's oddly pensive, Louis notices, not anywhere close to his usual brash self. Against every instinct screaming at him to stop, to head for the door and leave, Louis makes his way onto the balcony to join his friend.  
  
Zayn barely turns when he hears the door slide open. It's entirely too cold outside to be standing in thin cotton t-shirts and boxers, but neither boy cares enough to move back inside. If anything, the biting cold makes Louis' head feel clearer than it has in hours.  
  
"Hey," he murmurs lamely.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Louis bites his lip nervously.  
  
"So, i've really fucked it up this time, haven't I?"  
  
Zayn turns quickly then, something tiny flashing in his eyes, "I don't know, have you?"  
  
Louis' eyebrows cinch, "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Zayn scratches his neck, head ducked down so Louis can't really make out his expression. At least a minute goes by and Zayn still hasn't spoken. Louis eventually turns around to go back inside, back to his flat? School? He doesn't even know at this point, doesn't feel like he belongs in any one place.  
  
"I mean, is there something else going on you're not telling us?"  
  
Louis stills, heart speeding up slightly, before turning back around. Zayn's not looking at him though. Louis hears a hissing click as the other boy lights a cigarette, but otherwise doesn't move.  
  
Louis stays silent.  
  
"You know you talk in your sleep?" Zayn declares evenly after exhaling.  
  
His eyes finally meet Louis' across the porch then. And instead of the judgement or disgust Louis' been so afraid of, he can only see something like understanding in his friend's eyes.  
  
It's clear after a moment that Zayn doesn't actually expect an answer from him, at least not right now. So it stays quiet between them while the truth -- Louis' biggest secret -- hangs somewhere in the air between them, ready to be snatched up.  
  
Zayn smokes two more cigarettes while Louis keeps himself pressed against the sliding door. And they stay like that until the sun is high in the sky.  
  
000  
  
"Niall?" Louis calls, but the flat is empty when he returns hours later.  
  
Louis steps over the freshly scrubbed carpet leading to his bedroom and plops down on his mattress. Zayn finally had to leave for his own classes. He'd offered to skiv off and hang out with Louis, and Louis was close to letting him before he changed his mind and practically pushed the other boy out of his own flat.  
  
They never did discuss Zayn's comment on the balcony, what he probably knows now, what he's most likely figured out. Louis doesn't know for certain what Zayn heard him say in his sleep, but he knows he dreamt of Harry last night so he can only imagine what he must have said.  
  
But regardless, there was no judgement in Zayn's eyes. And from what he remembers of last night, there had been none in Niall's either. He's not a hundred percent certain how much they understand of the situation, but they know more now than Louis ever thought they would and they don't seem to hate him. And despite all the horribleness of the past two days, it feels really good to have that weight lifted off his chest.  
  
It occurs to Louis that he left his phone in his room last night and he should probably check it to make sure no one tried to reach him -- to make sure Harry didn't try to reach him.  
  
His heart drops a little when he sees that his screen is blank. It's not that he expected messages or calls from Harry. He's just so used to them being there, receiving several a day for weeks now. He didn't realize how much it would hurt to look at his phone and see nothing there. Not that he blames Harry. Louis practically pushed him out the door last night, took everything Harry was still willing to give him and threw it back at him because he was drunk and stupid and hating himself.  
  
He still thinks it's true, that Harry would be better off if he just got himself out now, but Louis knows if he would have been sober, there's no way he could have told Harry to leave last night. He knows that because right now in his clear state of mind he aches so bad for Harry he can't even stand it. He scrolls through his recent call list and hits the dial button before he can talk himself out of it. He knows Harry should be out of class by now, if he even went today.  
  
The phone cuts to voicemail after about five rings.  
  
Louis ends the call and tries again after a few minutes. It's not like he even has a plan of what to say to Harry, he just needs him to pick up, needs to hear his voice.  
  
It rings several times before cutting to Harry's voicemail again. Frustrated tears well up in Louis' eyes and he clutches the phone tightly in his fist. He wipes at his eyes furiously and before he can end the call he hears the beep go off to leave a message. He knows he probably shouldn't, but the words are already spilling out.  
  
"Harry... it's me. Louis. Harry, please just... just call me, yeah?," he chokes a little, "I'm so sorry. I just need to see you. Just... please call me... if you want to. I'm sorry for what i said, i'm-"  
  
The machine cuts him off before he can finish his babbling and he almost throws his phone in frustration. He suddenly thinks staying home wasn't the greatest idea. The flat is too quiet. He has too much time to kill alone with his thoughts and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, the distraction of a lecture might have helped.  
  
After about a half-hour of staring at the pock marks in his ceiling, he picks his mobile up again and hits the re-dial button.  
  
He lets it ring and ring and ring, and just before he's about to give up,  
  
"Lou?"  
  
Louis sits up quickly, "Harry?"  
  
"No, it's Niall."  
  
"Oh." Louis' heart drops a little and he clears his throat, attempting to hide the fact that he's been crying for the past twenty minutes before he speaks again. "Hey. Why've you got Harry's phone? Is he alright? I've been calling..."  
  
"Yeah, mate," Niall says softly, "I know."  
  
He doesn't say anything after that and Louis finally starts to see what this is.  
  
"Niall. Can you put Harry on, please?"  
  
"I don't think that's the best idea, Lou." Niall's voice is placating, like he's been put in charge of letting Louis down easy or some shit, and Louis can't take it.  
  
He's barely able to hold back the anger in his voice. "Is he there?"  
  
Niall is quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah, he's here."  
  
"Niall. Please." He tries to keep the desperation out of his voice.  
  
Louis thinks he hears a door close through the phone before Niall speaks again.  
  
"Lou, everything's fine, okay? Harry's fine."  
  
"Then why won't you let me talk to him? I asked you to make sure he was okay, not become his guard dog."  
  
"Louis, it's not like that and you know it."  
  
"No, I don't know it," Louis spits petulantly. He knows he sounds like a twat right now but he couldn't care less.  
  
"I'm coming to Harry's flat."  
  
"We're not there," Niall breathes.  
  
Louis growls and then laughs despairingly, "And you're not going to tell me where you are, are you?"  
  
He hears Niall sigh sadly through the phone. "I think he just needs some space right now, mate. Just give it some time, yeah?"  
  
Louis has to literally bite his tongue to keep from losing it. Harry doesn't want to see him. Which, okay. Okay.  
  
Somewhere in Louis' head he knows this shouldn't hurt as much as it does.  
  
"Lou?"  
  
"Yeah," Louis chokes out. "Sure, fine."  
  
"I'm coming back home, alright? Don't leave 'til I get there."  
  
Louis ends the call without responding and cradles his phone in his lap, stares at it until the screen goes dark.  
  
Harry doesn't want to see him. And yeah, Louis practically pushed him out the door, but he didn't think he'd actually go through with it. Louis feels the familiar burn behind his eyes. And he's so fucking sick of crying he doesn't know if he can do it again. So he closes his eyes and focuses on breathing evenly. His phone vibrating in his lap brings him back.  
  
It's a text from Eleanor of all people, informing him when her doctor's appointment is. Louis just stares at the text for several seconds before lobbing his phone against the wall. It, of course, breaks in two, battery separating from the body of the phone.  
  
Unsurprisingly, it suddenly stops feeling so much like a ticking time bomb.  
  
He doesn't bother picking it up again as he grabs his suitcase from the floor, thankful that he never got around to unpacking it.  
  
He doesn't think about the fact that he should have left a note, his anger carrying him out the door and to his car with little thought other than he needs to get away from Essex.  
  
He hopes that the four-hour drive to Holmes Chapel will do something to clear his head.  
  
000  
  
"Love, not that you ever need a reason to come visit, but are you ever going to tell me why you showed up here today? Put your dear old mum's nerves to rest?"  
  
Louis spares his mother a weak smile from his spot next to her on the couch. When he'd shown up two hours earlier, suitcase in hand, Jay had been almost as surprised as she had been when he'd shown up that weekend with Harry.  
  
Thankfully, she didn't ask why Harry wasn't with him this time. But why would she? Louis seems to keep forgetting that his mother still doesn't know that he and Harry are a lot more than just reacquainted best friends. If anything, his mum seems more concerned about the fact that this is the second time she's seen her son in a week and it's possibly more than she's seen him in the last year altogether. Underneath her happiness over having him home again, there's a layer of concern she can't quite get rid of when she looks at him.  
  
Louis takes a deep breath and pulls the quilt his mother threw over him tighter around his shoulders. She's allowed them to sit in silence for the last couple of hours, not pressing Louis for an explanation about why he showed up out of the blue on a Tuesday afternoon, during a school week no less, but Louis knew that couldn't last forever. The way she asks him isn't even in a prying way, but Louis still feels guilty, knows he owes her a reason for being here (owes her a lot more than that even, he reminds himself).  
  
He's not sure what he plans to say, is the thing. Even though he had four hours to prepare for this conversation, he still hasn't worked out just how exactly he's going to break this news to his mother. He thinks he came here more for comfort than anything else. And even though he's sure his mum would offer that to him even if he chose to remain silent about the real reason he's here, he feels like he owes her more than that. For the first time, putting the truth out there seems to be the only option that's going to give him any relief.  
  
He suddenly wishes he could go back in time and tell her the truth about Harry when he had the chance. Then maybe this impending conversation wouldn't feel like the most horrible thing he'll ever have to subject his mother to.  
  
He finds himself overwhelmed before he can even get any words out and great. Just great. Hot tears start building up behind his eyes as he prepares to break his mum's heart.  
  
"Louis," she murmurs, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from his face. "You're scaring me now. What's this all about? Did something happen?"  
  
Louis wipes at his eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath. "I got Eleanor pregnant, mum."  
  
His mum's hand drops from his. "What?"  
  
Louis can't even look at her, but the shock in her voice gives him some idea what she's feeling.  
  
"You... I thought you two..."  
  
"We did," Louis says miserably, "We're not together. We- God, i'm so sick of explaining this," he wipes his eyes furiously and finally meets his mother's stricken gaze.  
  
"It's been over since the summer," he explains over the lump in his throat. "We just- I was drunk.  _We_  were drunk, and we hooked up at a party a few months ago and it was a  _mistake_. God, it was the biggest mistake of my life and not even because she's pregnant now, okay. Fuck, i'm sorry. I'm so sorry, mum. I never meant for this to happen-"  
  
"Oh, God..." his mum breathes, pressing her face into her hands. Louis can almost see her shaking and he kind of wants to throw up. "So that's why you're here then?"  
  
Louis nods, "Yeah, but. That's not all of it. There's something else I have to tell you and I just- I'm not going to be able to take it if you hate me. I-"  
  
" _Louis Tomlinson_." The fierceness of his mother's tone breaks him out of his spiraling train of thought. She takes his hand in hers and forces him to look at her.  
  
"Don't you dare  _ever_  think you could say anything to me that would make me hate you. I love you no matter what, do you hear me?"  
  
Louis feels like a little kid as he nods slowly, gaze never wavering from his mother's. Jay takes a few moments to collect herself before continuing.  
  
"Look, I- I'm still trying to process all this but... you're going to get through this," she declares in the steadiest voice she can muster. "Sweetheart. I know it feels like it, but this isn't the end of the world. I mean, honestly, I had you when I was eighteen and don't think for a second that it was easy, but... I managed and you're not  _alone in this_ , alright? I am here for you. No matter what. You-"  
  
"Mum, you don't-" he cuts her off, eyes falling from hers as he shakes his head.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"You don't understand," he whispers.  
  
"What don't I understand?" Louis listens to her even and almost methodical tone of voice as she speaks. It's clear she's gone into some sort of super-mother mode or something, where she's trying to attack this from some kind of logical perspective in order to keep all hell from breaking loose. Louis wonders if what he's about to say next will effectively shatter that.  
  
"I'm- I'm with someone, mum..."  
  
Jay blows out a deep breath, lips thinning in acknowledgment. "Okay. This complicates things... Have you told her yet?"  
  
Louis shakes his head, "No. Eleanor doesn't know. No one does really. I mean, I think Niall might know. And maybe Zayn but-"  
  
"No. No, not Eleanor. I mean the girl you're with. Does she know about this?"  
  
Louis swears his heart stops. He feels his mouth drop open.  
  
His mother looks at him sympathetically, "Lou, I know you don't want to but you should probably..."  
  
"No, no it's- It's not-," he tries to collect himself, "Mum, i'm not with-"  
  
"Louis..."  
  
"It's Harry, mum."  
  
"Harry?" she asks, confusion marring her features, "What does he have to do with this?"  
  
Louis' lips quiver as the words leave him gently.  
  
"...I'm with him. He's who i'm with."  
  
"What?" Jay's voice is small, comes out as a tiny squeak of sound.  
  
"We're together," Louis breathes, "I'm sorry. I-"  
  
All Louis can do is watch as his mum's eyes grow larger as the information sinks in. She's not even looking directly at him anymore, her eyes unfocused as she takes in his confession. He's afraid to speak before she's ready. He doesn't even know what else to say, his biggest secret finally not a secret anymore.  
  
"Are you...?"  
  
He thinks he knows what she's asking. "I don't- Yes. I guess, yeah. I haven't really-" and that's when he starts crying. Hard and noisy.  
  
"Oh, God. Shh, it's okay. Oh, no. No, no sweetheart, come here. It's alright." Jay pulls him against her and wraps him up underneath her chin until Louis' face is smashed against her collarbone. And she just holds him like that until the worst of his sobs have died down.  
  
"Are you mad?" he croaks.  
  
"Oh, God no. God, no sweetheart. Never." She kisses the top of his head and with the way she says the words, Louis can't help but believe her. "This is just- a lot to take in."  
  
Louis moves back to look at her. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."  
  
Jay only wipes at his eyes with her thumb and clears her throat. "How long?" she asks softly, "When you two came home?"  
  
Louis nods, "A bit before that, yeah. It's been a couple of months now. It just happened, I-"  
  
"Oh, God," she breathes, a tiny smile forming on her face despite the tears welling in her eyes. Louis suddenly feels incredibly light somehow. Because there's no mistaking it. His mother actually looks...happy.  
  
"That's- Louis. That's so great."  
  
Louis can't help but smile a little then too, her pleasant reaction more than he could have ever hoped for.  
  
"Really?"  
  
She laughs wetly, "Yeah, really. I mean, it makes sense, sort of. This past weekend, well, I don't think i've ever seen you look so happy."  
  
Louis almost beams at her before his face crumples again.  
  
"I am. But it doesn't matter now," his voice breaks miserably, "I screwed it all up and I practically told him to leave and now he doesn't want to see me and I don't blame him but I just- I just-  
  
I love him, mum," he sobs, "I love him and I don't know what to do."  
  
Jay pulls Louis back to her, wraps him up and doesn't let go.  
  
"Baby, i'm sorry," she breathes against his hair, "I'm so sorry."  
  
She rocks him until he eventually falls asleep.  
  
000  
  
He winds up staying in Holmes Chapel until late Thursday afternoon. And it feels...nice, in a way. Being phone-less and disconnected from all the drama going on at school gives him time to learn how to breathe again. As he sits on the couch downstairs and watches mindless television with his little sisters, he can pretend, at least for a little while, that his life hasn't completely fallen to shambles.  
  
His mum is good about giving him time. She doesn't pressure him to go back, and she doesn't push him to talk about his current situation in any greater detail than he already has, but she offers him advice when they find themselves alone. And it's her last bit that finally convinces him that he can't hide out at home anymore.  
  
She held his face in her hands and said the words somewhere across his cheek, words meant only for him.  
  
"Sometimes life throws us a wild card, yeah? Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's not. Sometimes you might not understand what it's for until later."  
  
"He's better off without me, mum. I don't think I can fix this."  
  
She just pressed tighter, "I know sometimes you feel like you've maybe done something so bad that you don't deserve a second chance. But in the end, you have to realize that it's really not up to you. You can't tell him how to feel, or how to deal with this. That's not fair to him. I promise you, he's hurting just as much as you are, love. And, granted, I haven't known about you two but for about a day, but... I know that boy loves you. I've seen it."  
  
And Louis' heart had just felt so full of hope then, like maybe this wasn't actually the end of the world.  
  
That thought is harder to hold on to, however, the longer he's on the road by himself with no one to talk him down. Suddenly being phone-less doesn't feel so great anymore. Jay had been angry when he told her she'd have to wait to hear from him until he got back to Essex and fixed his mobile that he threw against the wall, but she let him go with the promise to call her as soon as he could upon his arrival back to school.  
  
The drive back to Essex is decidedly less of a relief than the one from it. It's completely dark outside when he crosses into the city, and Louis can't help but feel like he's driving back into the pit of despair as he edges closer to campus. He thinks, belatedly, that he'll probably have to deal with a pretty cross roommate when he gets back. Not that they keep tabs on each other's comings and goings, but Louis did leave without his phone, and after Niall had told him to stay put no less. So he tries to mentally prepare himself. He wouldn't even be surprised if Liam and Zayn showed up as well to throw their own two cents in about how irresponsible his decision to leave was. They feel more like disappointed parents to him lately than they do his best friends anyway. He can practically see them gathered in his living room now, waiting to descend on him as soon as he walks through the door.  
  
What he actually comes home to, however, he doesn't expect at all.  
  
As soon as he swings his bedroom door open, he feels his heart stop.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
The figure on his bed jolts up in an instant, hair everywhere, eyes wet and bloodshot.  
  
Louis swears he sees a flash of what can only be described as pure relief come over Harry's features when his eyes land on Louis. It's gone just as quickly though, a look of frustration and anger taking its place.  
  
"What the hell were you thinking?"  
  
Louis doesn't even have a second to answer before Harry is bounding up from his unmade bed and walking toward him purposefully. He looks almost hysterical.  
  
"Harry..." he drops his suitcase and shuts his door with his foot, hand held out as if he's trying to calm down a wild colt or something.  
  
"No. You think you can just disappear for  _two fucking days_  and not tell anyone where you're going?"  
  
Louis freezes.  
  
There are new, angry tears brimming in Harry's eyes as he walks over to Louis' night table and plucks up the remains of his damaged mobile.  
  
"No one had any idea where you were! And all you leave, is fucking  _this_?" He gestures to the broken phone in his hand, before tossing it back onto the table with a clamor. "No note. Nothing."  
  
Harry's eyes are wild and unlike anything Louis' seen from him before.  
  
"Did you even care what that would do to me?" he chokes.  
  
Louis' mouth drops open, a fierce ache to reach out and pull Harry to him overwhelming every part of him.  
  
"I'm sorry," he chokes out, "I- I didn't think you wanted-"  
  
"Yeah, you didn't  _think_ , that's the point," Harry spits. "This isn't just about  _you_."  
  
There's not only anger in Harry's voice as he speaks. There's also an incredible sadness that makes Louis ache to the bone. He still feels shocked silent though, mind racing with the thousand different ways he wants to say how sorry he is.  
  
"Don't you ever do that to me again..."  
  
Harry's moving into him then, taking Louis' jaw between his hands and crashing their lips together. Louis latches onto him with no hesitation, pulling him in as far as he can. It hurts a little bit, the bruising quality of Harry's mouth over his, every ounce of his rage seemingly poured into this kiss. It wakes Louis up though, and for the first time in days, things are clear.  
  
He tries to fight for control of the kiss, but Harry is relentless, surprising Louis as he pushes them both against the wall and pulls on Louis' hair until Louis can only tilt his head back and take Harry's assault on his mouth. He moans greedily as Harry tugs on his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth while his hands roam around Louis' waist and chest and ass. Louis yelps when Harry lifts him off the ground and pushes him up the wall. Louis has no choice but to press his legs against Harry's hips to stay upright.  
  
Harry mouths at Louis' chest, tugging his shirt off before descending into the curve of his neck, sucking bruises into his skin.  
  
Louis almost gasps when Harry pulls his back off the wall and, like he weighs nothing, carries him to the bed and deposits him down roughly onto his back. The bed jostles beneath the force of his body.  
  
Harry barely manages to get his shirt off before he's pulling at the drawstring of his track pants and kicking them across the carpet. Louis watches him with hooded eyes, breath hitching as his eyes rake over Harry's naked body in the lamplight; his smooth, hard muscles, the way he's already half-hard between his pale thighs.  
  
Louis feels his own cock swell in anticipation, body flushing with want.  
  
The mattress whines softly when Harry crawls over Louis' body, straddling his waist. Louis instantly reaches out to wrap his hand around Harry's cock but Harry only allows it for a second or two before yanking Louis' hand away and catching both of his wrists, forcing them down on either side of his head. Louis groans filthily, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest.  
  
Harry squeezes Louis' wrists in silent command.  _Stay_. He doesn't move again until Louis gives him a gentle nod, eyes glassy and hooded.  
  
Harry shuffles back a little until he can sit directly over Louis' clothed erection and grind. Louis keens rather loudly at the sensation, causing Harry to wrap his hand around his mouth softly, letting him know in that one gesture that he needs to try and stay as quiet as possible. Harry's fingers trail down Louis' torso after that, pulling heat with them as they go.  
  
"Harry," he chokes, "please."  
  
Louis can't read the expression on the boy's face as Harry pulls at the waistband of his pants and pulls them down just enough to free his cock, which is now so hard it hurts. Louis' head is spinning, trying to take in every single second of this, so exhilarated. This is the most alive he's felt in days.  
  
His eyebrows cinch when Harry grabs his cock and starts pumping him at the same time he sits up on his knees and shuffles back. Before he knows what's happening, Harry has folded over and taken Louis into his mouth, sucking loosely until Louis is slick with his spit. Louis watches, wordlessly, as Harry crawls back over him and, after using his own spit covered fingers on himself, lines Louis' cock up to his hole and begins sinking down slowly.  
  
He doesn't get far at first, still too dry and that's when Louis realizes that Harry's barely been prepped at all and his face is contorted in concentration and pain as he tries to take in Louis' length.  
  
"Haz..."  
  
"Shut up," Harry breathes, holding Louis steady as he wills his body to open up around him. Just when Louis' about to pull him off, he feels Harry's body give way. He's inside Harry quickly then, being sucked in inch by inch until Harry is completely seated on him.  
  
They both take a deep breath then. Louis searches for Harry's eyes but only gets a spared glance before Harry starts his rhythm and looks away.  
  
Harry plants his large hands on Louis' chest and rides him relentlessly. Louis makes several choked off noises in the back of his throat, sounds he's never heard himself make before. He doesn't know if it's the lack of any boundary between them, or the frustrated tears in Harry's eyes, or that Harry's taken all of his control, but Louis is captivated, unable to move underneath him. He's not going to last long, can already feel his orgasm building furiously.  
  
Louis chokes off another whimper just as Harry leans down to pull at his wrists. Louis sits up with Harry's help, letting his arms wrap around Harry's waist. Harry's arms encircle his neck and upper back, pushing their chests almost flush together. Louis has to crane his neck uncomfortably in order to see Harry's face, but he needs this. Harry starts his unforgiving pace again, this time with Louis' hips rolling along with his. Louis finally catches Harry's stubbornly elusive gaze, and once he does, the younger boy can't look away.  
  
Harry's head knocks into his lightly, his long fingers pulling at the short hair at Louis' neck. Louis can see the unshed tears glistening in Harry's eyes and the sound of their combined labored breathing is so loud in Louis' ears he can't hear anything else.  
  
"Harry," he whimpers, "I do, you know? I lov-"  
  
"Don't," Harry growls, crushing his mouth to Louis' to cut him off. Louis wants to wrench back, tell him anyway because he doesn't want to hold onto the words anymore, has no reason to, but then he's coming fast and apparently so is Harry, his body squeezing Louis so tightly it almost hurts.  
  
"Fuck," Louis growls low in his throat as Harry slows his pace while they both come down. Louis doesn't let go of Harry, simply lays back and pulls Harry with him. Harry is too boneless to protest. But when he slips off of Louis a few minutes later and tries to roll to his side, Louis tugs him back.  
  
He doesn't give Harry a chance to speak as he pulls the boy in for a firm, pleading kiss, fingers tangling in his curls.  
  
"Don't leave. Please."  
  
He hears the younger boy sigh, but he doesn't make to move from where he is, giving an unspoken promise to stay.  
  
He makes Louis let him get up long enough to clean himself up, and even though Louis' pretty sure he won't bolt, he still holds his breath until Harry slides back into bed with him, pulling the duvet over them both. Harry's so spent and resigned that Louis is able to pull him against his chest without much protest and that's how Harry sleeps, tucked underneath Louis' chin.  
  
Louis joins him in sleep only minutes after. And for the first time in days, it's dreamless.  
  
000  
  
It's not even fully light outside yet when Louis' woken abruptly by the front door to the flat barreling open. Weirdly enough, his first instinct is to pull Harry closer to him, relieved that he's still actually there.  
  
He hears several footsteps heading toward his room and he knows, without any doubt, what's about to happen. And he almost welcomes it, isn't afraid for the first time in his life.  
  
When the door opens he's not surprised to see them standing there. Liam is first, looking a bit frenzied before he finally catches sight of Louis. His hand falls from the door knob slowly when he takes in the sight in front of him. Zayn nearly runs into him where he's struck silent in the doorway.  
  
Zayn looks confused for only a moment before he follows Liam's gaze and joins him in dumbfounded silence.  
  
And Louis' sure it must be quite the sight. The duvet that they were covered with last night is now only resting just high enough to cover his and Harry's waists. And if that wasn't a tip-off, the fact that Harry's got an arm and a leg curled around his body, with his head resting on Louis' chest, should be enough to drive it home. There's nowhere for Louis to go now, no way to talk himself out of this one. And there's absolutely no part of him that wants to.  
  
He simply blinks at his friends softly, mouth twitching up gently. His expression is resigned, and maybe a little bit hopeful.  
  
His friends only blink back at him, a little stupidly in their shock, but otherwise they don't move. Louis sighs softly through his nose and does the only thing he feels like doing, running his hand up Harry's back and letting his fingers grip into the soft curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer and falling back to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry's not there when Louis wakes up the second time that morning. No one is. And Louis gets it, he does, but it doesn't make it any easier to swallow.

000

His classes go by in a haze. It's his first day back in a week so it's hard to pay attention, especially while his mind is plagued with thoughts he can't get rid of. He wishes his professor's lecture on Sophocles was enough to make him stop thinking about Harry and how he wishes he knew where they stood right now; about Liam and Zayn and Niall and what they  _think_  about all this - this big huge secret that Louis finally let slip through his fingers.

It feels different than he thought it would, having it out there. Maybe it's because he's got something bigger to worry about now, but somehow his friends knowing that he's involved with another boy doesn't seem like such a huge deal anymore. And besides, he thinks (hopes) things can't get much worse than they already are anyway.

The hall is crowded with people when he leaves World Lit, finally done with lectures for the day. His pocket burns where his phone would usually be, waiting for a text from Harry asking what their plans are since they're both off until football practice later that afternoon. There's no message though, and Louis doesn't know if there would be even if his phone wasn't lying in pieces on his night table at home.

He's almost to the double doors at the end of the hall when he sees Harry round the corner slowly, eyes cast down until he spots Louis a few meters away. He stops walking, eyes softening the tiniest bit. He looks how Louis feels at the moment - exhausted, lost,  and maybe like he wants to push through the people around them and wrap himself around Louis.

He's hesitating though, fighting with himself, and Louis can only stand there, frozen, waiting for Harry to decide.

He watches him take a step forward before halting again, eyes focusing somewhere behind Louis before his mouth turns down into a severe frown, which Louis doesn't understand until he feels a small hand on his shoulder.

He swings around to see what has Harry so upset, and finds Eleanor there, an unreadable look on her face.

"Can we talk?" she asks hopefully.

Louis looks back to Harry quickly but is met only with a sea of strangers filling the gap where he stood. He barely catches sight of Harry's back as he practically runs out of the doors at the end of the hall.

Louis' eyes shut briefly before he turns back to Eleanor and gives a small, resigned nod.

 

000

 

Harry's thoughts are still going haywire when he shows up at practice that day. Niall had come over as soon as Harry called him when he left the school earlier. The feeling in Harry's chest when he saw Louis with Eleanor in the hall was a shock. He hadn't expected it to hurt that much, or feel like such a giant weight had been dropped inside his ribcage. He'd felt so out of sorts that he'd called Niall without even thinking about it.

He had been so close, too. Close to going to Louis and dragging him back to the complex and just...being with him. Talking to him, telling him that he doesn't care what Louis thinks is best for him, he's not leaving.

Seeing Louis' ex reminded him of just how naive he's being.

Because that's how it's going to be, he realizes. No matter how sure he is that Louis is his, he knows a piece of him will now always belong to someone else, too. And he never wants to have to make Louis choose. Because he knows that no matter how much Louis cares about him, he'll eventually have to. And Harry never wants to be the one that Louis doesn't pick, doesn't know if he could survive it again.

"You didn't go home last night, did you?  _Dammit_ , Harry."

Harry keeps his head bowed as Niall leads them onto the pitch. His friend doesn't bother to hide the look of distress on his face.

They're the first ones there, early by about twenty minutes.

Harry almost laughs to keep from crying, feels like a fucking mess of a person. Niall had told him to go home last night, that staying in Louis' room was a bad idea. But Harry was worried sick, and he could tell Niall was too, he was just putting a brave face on for Harry's sake. It's not like Harry had any way of knowing that Louis would come back that night. It's not like he planned any of what ended up happening. The soreness of his body is a constant reminder, however; and as much as he wants to, he doesn't regret a second of it.

"Are you disappointed?"

"Nah, mate," Niall answers sadly, "Just don't want to see you keep torturing yourself."

Harry nods gently. Niall knows everything now, despite Harry's attempts at trying to deny it to protect Louis. Niall had quickly put them to rest, though, admitting to Harry that Louis hadn't done anything to try and disprove what he'd seen that night, that the only thing he'd been concerned with was making sure Harry was okay.

And that. That was probably the only thing that got Harry through that night, if he's honest.

They kick the ball around a bit before the rest of the team starts trickling onto the field. There's still no sign of Louis, but Harry's head picks up when he sees Zayn and Liam walk on together, eyes finding him and Niall almost immediately. Niall tucks the football under his arm and walks closer to Harry.

"You know, you can-" Harry starts, "I mean, you don't have to stay over here with me. I don't want to keep you from your friends."

But Niall only shrugs, breaking his eye contact with Liam and Zayn, and turns back to Harry.

"You're my friend too," he says firmly, to which Harry just nods, too grateful for the other boy's presence to argue with him.

They go back to shuffling the ball around and Harry tries not to worry about where Louis is. He's pretty sure he hasn't run away. He wouldn't do that again, at least not without telling someone first. But Harry's eyes hardly leave the entrance of the field, even after Paul and coach Cowell show up and officially start practice.

000

Louis is already ten minutes late by the time he drops Eleanor back off at her dorm room. She'd asked him to take her to her first appointment that day, citing the fact that Louis had a car and she didn't. Louis' pretty sure it was about more than that though. He's almost certain her roommate, Danielle, has a car, but he knows it was more about him staying involved than anything else. And that had been her subtle way of letting him know that.

After sitting in a waiting room for the past two hours, footie practice is actually a welcome alternative. Well, it would be under usual circumstances, anyway.

Louis feels the anxiety triple in his chest when he walks onto the Essex practice pitch twenty minutes late and the eyes of his teammates are suddenly on him. Through his haste to get there, he hadn't exactly had time to worry about seeing his friends for the first time since that morning. But when Liam, Zayn and Niall lock eyes with him and he can't read a single thing from their expressions, he wishes with everything in him that he'd bunked off practice completely.

 

The worst part is, he doesn't think Harry looks at him once.

 

Coach Cowell doesn't notice him step on, as he's in the middle of dividing the team up for a scrimmage match. Paul sees him though, silent question in his eyes. Louis shuffles into the group as inconspicuously as he can and gets grouped onto the same team as Zayn and Niall.

Louis feels some of the tension in his body deflate when Niall gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before running over to the mouth of the goal net. He can see Zayn try to make eye contact with him from the corner of his eye, but he purposely avoids his efforts.

It's weird, working with Brewer again as his forward instead of Harry. The dynamic isn't easy to fall back into and Louis realizes that the almost psychic wavelength that he and Harry exist on when they play together isn't so easy to access with just anyone. He hadn't even really appreciated it until just now, when Brewer miscalculates several of his passes in a row. Somehow he knows it's not just the other boy being rusty.

A part of him is thankful that Cowell hadn't put him and Harry on the same team though. He doesn't know how he would have been able to push everything out of his head long enough to focus on just being the other boy's teammate, even just for an hour. And with the way Harry won't even look at him if he can help it, Louis doesn't imagine they would have played any better together than he and Brewer are.

Louis passes the ball to Sully in a quick slant down the pitch and his heart catches a little as Harry steps up to try and field the ball away from the other boy. Even though Harry isn't playing up to his usual standards today, it doesn't take long before he's stolen the ball away rather impressively. Louis doesn't notice Sully's incensed expression at being bested, too busy focused on Harry bringing the ball back the opposite way on the field. He notices the second time though, when he passes to Sully again and watches him lose the ball to Harry just as he had before. When the ball is still tangled between their feet, Sully gives Harry a small, but deliberate shove to the shoulder. Harry seems to take it in stride, even if his expression hardens the slightest bit. Louis frowns but continues to play.

It's not until Sully gets the ball and loses it for a third time that things fly apart. This time, he makes no effort to hide his frustration and pushes Harry to the ground hard.

"What the fuck, man?" Harry spits angrily.

"Don't be such a bitch, Styles. I hardly touched you."

And Louis is running over then and isn't even thinking about what he's about to do next. He barely sees Zayn as his friend steps in front of him with a hand to his chest. And Louis would have pushed him off and kept going directly toward Sully had it not been for the fact that Zayn turns at that moment and punches the boy square in the face himself.

000

Zayn gets suspended for two games but Louis doesn't think he looks half as upset about it as he should. As he wraps a towel around a bag of frozen pizza rolls for Zayn's hand, he recalls the shocked looks on everyone's faces when Sully had hit the ground. He remembers the look on Harry's face most of all - one of complete and pure disbelief that Zayn of all people would step in on his behalf like that. If Louis' honest, it was a bit of a shock to him as well - a good shock, though, one that causes a sort of warm affection to settle inside him as he brings over the make-shift compress to his friend on the couch.

Zayn takes it gratefully and folds it over his knuckles.

"I can't believe you did that," Louis murmurs.

Zayn laughs breathily, "I'm not gonna lie, Tommo. I've been wanting to do that for years now."

"Yeah, but. You didn't have to... I just-"

"He's a twat," Zayn looks up to level him with a firm stare. "He deserved it."

And it's an easy excuse that Zayn's offering him, but the words mean so much more than that and they both know it.

Before Louis can say anything else, the front door swings open and Liam and Niall are stepping through, grocery bags hanging off their arms.

Liam ambles over after dropping his set on the bench, tearing at a stubborn packet before depositing two white pills in Zayn's palm.

"Take those."

Zayn laughs, "Li, i'm fine, really."

Liam doesn't bother responding as he takes the frozen pizza out of Zayn's compress and replaces it with a proper ice pack. Zayn rolls his eyes affectionately and swallows the pills dry.

Louis gets up to help put the food away, sidling up next to Niall, who gives him a half smile. Louis returns it, handing him items to stock in the cupboard because he's always been a bit shit with organizing.

"Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?" Niall asks softly after a minute.

Louis stops, "What?"

"For the other day? Before you left."

"Oh," Louis breathes. He thinks about it, and no. He's not mad anymore, doesn't think he ever really was. He knew none of that was Niall's fault, that he was only trying to help by keeping Louis away. And besides, he doesn't know if he would have gone home if things hadn't happened the way they did. At least his mum knows about him now.

"No, i'm not mad," Louis assures, and Niall nods after a second, seeming to accept the answer, and continues putting the last of the groceries away before following Louis to join Liam and Zayn in the living room. It's when they're all sat down that Louis really feels Harry's absense.

"Niall, where's? Is he..."

"He's fine," Niall answers quietly, sending a curious glance to where Liam and Zayn are sitting, but there's a small smile tugging on his lips and Louis feels his cheeks heat up. He didn't bother to ask discreetly, so Niall's confusion and Liam and Zayn's searching looks from the opposite couch aren't unwarranted. He can tell that they're all just waiting on him to break the silence and say something now.

"Okay, well," he swallows, eyes cast downward, "I mean- You all know, I guess. So I don't really see the point in-"

"Oh, no, mate. You're not getting out of this one." It's Zayn who says it, and his voice is light where Louis was expecting something else entirely.

He keeps going when he sees Louis' slightly dazed look. "I mean, you can leave some parts out, like anything and everything to do with how good last night was for you."

Liam blushes at that and Louis almost chokes. Zayn laughs.

"What are you on about?" Niall asks, laughter edging up in his tone.

Zayn turns to Niall, cocking his head toward Louis as he speaks, "Li and I only walked in on the two of them spooning this morning, didn't we."

"Oh, fuck, I knew I heard something last night! Holy shit, mate."

"Fucking hell." Louis drops his head into his hands, face on fire, completely and utterly mortified. But Zayn and Niall are laughing and Louis is so, so confused. Confused and embarrassed but also a little relieved. When he looks up, all of his friends are grinning, even Liam, their eyes filled with mirth.

However Louis imagined this conversation going, this was not even close to being it.

He has a hard time controlling the smile that eventually breaks across his own face. He can't explain it, but he feels really safe right now, like nothing is really all that different from how it ever was between them. And maybe it's not. If Louis hadn't been sure before how his friends felt about him after this morning, he thinks he's got a better idea now.

Eventually the playfulness dies down, and when it does, Liam speaks up.

"I just don't understand, Lou," he starts and Louis' chest tightens before Liam finishes. "I don't get why you didn't think you could tell us. Did you really think we would...?"

"No," Louis shakes his head, "Well, I mean, I guess I didn't know. I didn't know what to think. I was...terrified."

"Of what?"

Louis shrugs, huffs a little, like he wishes he could just make them understand that it wasn't  _easy_  keeping this secret from them, how paralyzing it was to be that afraid. "I don't know, of how you'd think of me? After you knew? I mean most people-"

"We're not most people, Louis. You know that. Did you really think we wouldn't want to be friends with you just because you're with a bloke? And, well, if anyone  _does_  feel that way about it then _screw them_."

Louis feels his heart twinge at the sharpness in Liam's usually docile tone, doesn't know if he's ever seen a fire in the other boy quite like this before. There's a familiar burn settling behind his eyes and he can't believe this is really happening. He doesn't think he even could have dreamed it this way if he'd tried to.

It's silent for several minutes after that, Liam, Zayn and Niall seemingly content to let him be alone with his own thoughts for a moment.

"So, you really don't think it's...? I mean, that i'm...?"

"Of course not," Liam answers easily, Zayn nodding his agreement next to him.

He hears Niall's voice next. "That just leaves more for us, yeah?"

Louis laughs, closing his eyes to stave off his tears as Niall continues, now speaking to everyone.

"You know Brewer's older brother Jake? He's gay."

Louis pauses as he lets the information sink in. His voice comes out a bit awed, "Really? I didn't know that..."

Niall only shrugs, like it's unimportant.

Liam speaks up after that. "My cousin. You know, the one from Coventry? He is too. I met his boyfriend over the summer. Good lad."

Louis knows if he looks at his friends right now, he'll start crying, overwhelmed with affection for them.

"One of my best friends is gay," Zayn says, and that's when Louis' eyes snap open. He finds Zayn staring warmly back at him.

"Yeah, mine too," Niall adds softly, "And...another one of my friends too. Just met him this year, actually."

Louis' heart skips, eyes floating back to Zayn when he picks up again after Niall.

"Yeah, I think I know him. Actually, I've known them both since we were in secondary together and, as it turns out," Louis feels the first set of tears slip over his cheeks, "they're kind of stupidly perfect for each other."

Louis folds a hand over his face and chokes out a sob.

He feels Niall's hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles there. And not long after, Zayn is squeezing in next to him on the couch, and when Louis looks up and wipes the remaining wetness from his eyes, Liam is there too.

He doesn't know what he did to deserve friends like this, but for the first time in days, he really believes that everything might actually turn out okay.

000

Louis sleeps in the next morning, waking up only when Niall comes into his room and tosses an old mobile phone onto the mattress next to his head.

"It still works," he says, "and you should be able to put your sim in it."

Louis stares at it for a minute before nodding, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, "Thank you."

"I talked to Harry."

Louis perks up from where he's trying to slot his sim card into the new phone. "You did? Is he alright? Did he, uh, say anything?"

Niall's mouth quirks, "Not really. He's at home right now, actually. Took the train up last night."

Louis' eyes fall from his. He nods gently, "Oh."

"Asked me to check in on you, though," he continues, and Louis lets a breath go he didn't realize he was holding.

"Probably shouldn't have told you that," he laughs and Louis smiles.

"Thanks, Niall," he says before his friend leaves the room. The  _for everything_  goes unsaid.

000

Louis finds Zayn out on the porch a few hours later, rolling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

He's been contemplating sending Harry a text for the better part of an hour, but nothing sounds right, and even though it kills him, it's getting harder to ignore the fact that Harry obviously wants space right now, so Louis decides to join Zayn outside before he does something stupid.

Zayn almost drops the cigarette when he hears the door slide open. He offers Louis a small smile when he sees that it's him.

"You stay over last night?" Louis asks.

"Hmm? Oh, no. Niall let me in when you were asleep."

Louis sighs, sidling up beside Zayn against the railing and looking out over the complex parking lot.

"'Cause I need a babysitter, I suppose."

Zayn shoots him a vaguely sympathetic look. "We're just worried about you, mate."

"So you've got me on twenty-four-hour surveillance. I suppose this is some sort of tracking device, then?" He holds up the old phone that Niall had given him earlier, "So I can't wander off again.

Zayn laughs, pulling his lighter from his pocket. He drags his thumb over the flint wheel and winces once he realizes that he's done it with his injured hand.

"Here. Let me," Louis offers, reaching for the plastic.

Zayn pulls it away, "No. I'm trying to quit."

Louis quirks an eyebrow at the cigarette between Zayn's fingers, to which the other boy only smirks.

"Well, I'm thinking about it at least."

"What for?" Louis asks, mostly just to keep the conversation going.

Zayn shrugs, "It's expensive. And Liam's always going on about it."

Louis' brows pinch but he doesn't ask. He notices Zayn's good hand squeeze the plastic and then tap it on the railing once before popping the cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

Louis doesn't say anything. The mood has suddenly shifted a little without him realizing. Louis ponders how when they're around other people, Zayn is possibly the most garish person he knows, but when it's just them, they always seem to fall into these comfortable silences, though Louis notices that they've gotten more intense as of late, too many secrets let loose inside them.

"When?" Zayn asks on an exhale.

Louis tilts his head to the side, "Huh?"

"When did it start?"

Louis sighs, laughs a little through his nose, "Do you want the simple or the complicated answer?"

Zayn huffs, takes another drag.

"In Leeds," Louis answers after a beat, though he's pretty sure Zayn figured that one out already. "But, before that too," he adds softly, "Once. A few months before graduation."

Zayn nods, looks eerily accepting of the news, which Louis wishes he had the energy to analyze.

"I suppose it all makes sense now," he states.

Louis nods after a minute. He doesn't really think before the words start spilling out, but if anyone's ever going to really know the truth, he thinks he doesn't mind it being Zayn.

"I've always... I mean, I didn't realize it for a long time, you know? Or I didn't want to. I kind of ruined it, at Priestly. I don't really know what I would have done if he hadn't shown up here, given me another chance, and-"

"And you're in love with him."

Louis pauses, words catching in his throat. Zayn mistakes his hesitation for something else.

"It's okay if you can't say it-"

"I am," Louis clips, "I'm in love with him." Because it's true and he's not embarrassed to say it. Zayn doesn't look surprised by the declaration, like he already knew and was only waiting for Louis to say it out loud.

"Good. If you didn't I don't see how you're gonna make this work."

Louis sighs miserably, "I don't- I don't know if I can though, Zayn," he runs a hand through his hair, vexed, "I mean, I ruined things before, but - this is completely different. I don't know how to fix this."

They both stay silent for a few minutes. Zayn doesn't offer him any false optimism or placations, no promises that things will somehow magically work out. What he says instead shocks Louis to the bone.

"I kissed Liam."

Louis' mouth sputters open, "What?"

"I kissed Liam," he repeats, eyes still facing straight ahead, hand tightening over the railing until his knuckles go white.

"Heard that part," Louis murmurs. "Just... _what_?"

Zayn flicks the butt of his cigarette over the balcony and lights another one quickly.

"It was about...four months ago. During summer hols."

Louis feels like someone has dunked his head beneath water, and he has to pinch himself a little to be sure this is a real conversation that's happening and not just his imagination playing tricks on him.

"It was while you were holed up at home. After your accident," Zayn continues, taking a long drag. "We were at a party. Pissed out of our heads."

"Oh. Well, hey, that's. That's not that big a deal. What's a drunken snog between mates, right?" Not that Louis has any idea what he's really talking about, but he wants to make Zayn feel less awkward about this. "You laugh it off, yeah?"

"We never talked about it."

And that's when the light goes off, when Louis really gets it.

"Oh.  _Oh_."

Zayn mouth twitches, still avoiding Louis' eyes.

"But you want to," Louis declares, voicing his realization aloud.

Zayn goes really still then, exhaling slowly. "I don't think he wants to."

"How do you know?"

Zayn shrugs, ashing his cigarette, and it's clear Louis won't get a real answer.

"So, when are you going to tell him, then?"

Zayn releases a deep breath and rubs at his eyes, "It's not that simple, Lou..."

Louis suddenly feels a wave of frustration overcome him. Because he sees a bit of himself in Zayn in this instance, or at least the boy he used to be. And Zayn sees Louis now, sees his situation and what it's done to his relationship. He sees that and yet he's still decided to give up before he's even tried and Louis can't just stand there and watch it.

He reaches forward to pull the cigarette from Zayn's lips and toss it to the ground. Zayn turns to look at him then with widening eyes as Louis crushes it underneath his foot and turns to walk inside.

"It really fucking is, mate."  


 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was heavily inspired by Robert Pattinson's "Never Think" (as in i listened to it on repeat while writing this).

000  
  
Louis is able to hold off on texting Harry the entire weekend, but when Monday comes around and he knows Harry is back on campus, he can't stop himself. The message is short and careful, just asking how he is. Louis cringes as soon as he sends it, because how is he expecting Harry to even answer that? It seems like Harry doesn't know either, because Louis never receives a response.  
  
The week passes slowly after that. Louis drags in the hallways at school in the hopes of seeing Harry in between his classes. He never does.  
  
He sees Eleanor plenty though. Where she was just a sparse presence in his life before, she seems to be everywhere he turns now, and always eerily in high spirits. She walks him to class almost every day of the week, chattering on happily about one thing or the other - things Louis is sure he used to be interested in once upon a time, but now can barely pretend to listen to.  
  
He finds himself glancing at her abdomen from time to time, trying to discern if there's any growth there since the last time he saw her. Sometimes he thinks there is, but then she'll turn in a particular way and it'll be gone. She's still so tiny, flat. Louis knows it doesn't necessarily mean anything. Some girls don't show until well into their second trimester (he had to read something while he was in the waiting room), but it allows him to pretend for a few minutes that this isn't actually happening.  
  
"So, Dani is going to bring me to my appointment today, and then we're coming to the game tonight."  
  
"Wait, what?"  
  
Eleanor eyes him suspiciously, and then repeats herself. "I said you don't have to drive me to Doctor Stenrick's today. I know you've got your game. So Dani is taking me."  
  
"Oh," he says distractedly. "Yeah, alright."  
  
There's a tiny crease between her brows, but instead of letting herself look annoyed, she forces a smile before trotting off. "See you, Lou."  
  
000  
  
It's an hour before their game and Louis feels anxious. Not in a good way, either. Eleanor won't stop texting him and every time his phone vibrates he feels a little sick. He's long since given up on hearing from Harry. He suddenly wishes Niall never gave him the phone in the first place. At least before, he could pretend that the lack of communication between them was because he didn't have his mobile, and not because Harry didn't want to talk to him.  
  
Louis decides to go to the locker rooms early to clear his head. Niall, Liam and Zayn have been hovering lately (to put it nicely) and Louis just needs a minute alone to think.  
  
When he parks, he takes his phone out of his pocket and turns it face down in the passengers seat. He doesn't want to see Eleanor's texts anymore, or the missed calls from his friends, and mostly, he can't stand the sight of the wall of unanswered messages he's sent to Harry. Leaving his phone in the car doesn't fix the ache in his chest, but it helps.  
  
The locker room is empty when he gets there and he breathes a sigh of relief. He changes in silence and tries to focus on preparing himself for the match later. He still gets nervous before games, even now, and he knows it's a moot point, but he wishes Harry were here. His voice has always had a strange way of calming Louis when he's keyed up. He's not here though. And Louis realizes that he doesn't know the next time he'll be alone with Harry again, if ever. Harry's done a pretty good job of making sure it hasn't happened again since that night in Louis' bedroom.  
  
Louis stands up, facing the wall of lockers and pulls his jersey over his head.  
  
" _Oh_."  
  
He whips around at the startled voice, a familiar spark igniting in his gut when he sees who it is.  
  
The first thing Louis notices are his green eyes and how they go large for a second before softening. His insides start doing cartwheels. And just like that, they're alone for the first time in what feels like forever.  
  
Harry stiffens, steps back. And Louis thinks  _one false move_  and he'll bolt in the opposite direction. He can't let that happen, though. Not when they're  _this close_ , finally. There's a new fire inside of him now that he hasn't felt for days. And maybe he's going a bit mad, and maybe it's just his desperation fueling him, but he's decided that he's not backing down from this without a fight first. And if there's anything in the world he's ever  _needed_ to fight for, it's this. It's Harry - and this thing that's been building between them for the last seven years. He can't let it end like this.  
  
The way Harry looks at him - it's like he's been caught and is deciding he's either going to make a run for it or finally give in and Louis really can't tell which. So when he walks toward Harry then, it's fast, not careful at all. He doesn't want to give Harry the chance to even think about pushing him away.  
  
He steps into him and throws his arms his neck, buries his face on top of Harry's shoulder and breathes. Eventually (each second feels like a minute) he feels Harry's arms close around him as he hugs back.  
  
Louis sighs into Harry's shirt and squeezes even tighter. He thinks he feels Harry do the same. He pulls back the tiniest bit, enough to level his stare with Harry's, and he's stuck in place by the emotion in his eyes.  
  
He and Harry are on shaky ground now and he knows he shouldn't presume that it's okay, but it's just been so long and he can't not. He leans forward to kiss Harry gently.  
  
Harry tries to break away after a second, "Lou..."  
  
Louis shakes his head, keeps going, pressing his lips hard against Harry's.  
  
Harry brings his hands to Louis' face and tries to gently pry him loose, and then his hands fall to Louis' shoulders and push more forcefully when he still doesn't back away. Their mouths separate with a smack and with Louis breathing heavily.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry moves back, shaking his head, "This is too hard. I'm- I just need-"  
  
Louis' chest hurts. "Harry, please don't do this."  
  
Harry keeps shaking his head, moving back to widen the distance between their bodies, as if it will make him trust himself more or something. He presses his hands against his face. "I'm sorry."  
  
Louis stands there for a second, letting it sink in that this is actually falling apart and he has no idea how to stop it.  
  
Suddenly, he swings his fist back and throws it sideways against the lockers, causing a loud pop to reverberate through the room. Harry's head snaps up, eyeing Louis carefully as he steps forward.  
  
"So what was that then, huh? Just a  _goodbye fuck_?"  
  
Harry's expression turns pained. "Lou. No."  
  
Louis doesn't stop, "Did you leave that morning knowing it was over, then? That you weren't even going to fucking talk to me again?" Harry doesn't answer him, not that Louis spares a breath to let him, "If this is your way of telling me you don't want to be with me anymore, then just man up and say it."  
  
It's Harry's turn to look angry then.  
  
"God dammit, Louis, don't pull that shit on me!" His voice cracks, and Louis can see tears of frustration building against the green in his eyes.  
  
Louis steps in to take Harry's face between his hands, voice low and rough.  
  
"Then  _tell me it's over_. Tell me to my face that you're done. I'm not leaving until you do."  
  
Louis watches Harry shut his eyes, watches the way his mouth quivers lightly as he tries to keep from falling apart. But he never speaks.  
  
"See, you can't," Louis breathes, voice catching, chest filling with foolish hope, "Because it's not. It's not over and it never will be. Because  _you love me_ ," he bites out, takes a breath, "and I'm so in love with you I don't even know how to  _handle_  it."  
  
Harry's jaw sets, a few large tears falling over his cheeks.  
  
"I do, okay?" Louis continues, "I love you. And I know it's unfair and you deserve better than me. Harry,  _I know that_. And I have no right, because asking you to stay is the most selfish thing I could ever do, but..."  
  
He stares up into Harry's large, wet eyes, filled with things that hurt to look at directly, and  _none of this is Harry's fault_ , and Louis suddenly can't finish. He drops his hands from Harry's face and steps back.  
  
He feels like he's being pressed from all sides, unable to move anywhere or do anything that's right. It's all wrong no matter what he does. He's not at all prepared to lose Harry. He doesn't want to be without him, but he didn't feel the true, sickening weight of it until just this moment.  
  
His mother's words float back to him ( _but in the end, you have to realize that it's really not up to you_ ).  
  
And that's when Louis finally understands. He can't make Harry go. He can't make him stay. He can't do anything but accept his choice, whatever it is in the end. Because this isn't up to him. It never was.  
  
"I'm sorry." Louis wipes his eyes (he doesn't know when he started crying) and grabs his bag from the floor. Harry's strained voice stops him just before he reaches the door of the locker room.  
  
"Why?"  
  
Louis turns back to him, confused by the question.  
  
"Why is it worth all this?"  _Why am I worth it_ , is what Louis actually hears.  
  
He doesn't even have to think about it.  
  
"Because I belong with you," he states.  
  
He thinks it might be the truest thing he's ever said to anyone.  
  
000  
  
They lose their match to Edinburgh, 2-0. Louis doesn't care.  
  
Zayn and Liam stick close by his side as they walk out of the locker room after being torn apart by Cowell. Louis had welcomed the scolding, anything to blanket the current ache inside of him, even if it was only for a few minutes.  
  
He searches for Harry when they leave, spots him over by Niall with his head down. He wants so much to walk over and try to console him, knowing that he probably took their coach's speech to heart. He watches Niall pat Harry on the back, offering the comfort that he can't, and his heart sinks.  
  
He's distracted when he hears a female voice behind him. He turns just in time to see Danielle Peazer walking toward them. She makes a beeline straight for Liam, who looks a bit timid, but not exactly unhappy to see her. Louis can't tell if he's blushing or not when Danielle reaches up to curl her delicate hand around his bicep.  
  
Louis is suddenly hit with a wave of guilt. His eyes find Zayn almost instantly, who's standing no more than a foot away, eyeing the scene with a kind of hurt only Louis can see. He's schooled his expression into something else, but Louis sees (Louis knows everything there is to know about pretending, thinks there's probably no one better at it than he is). When Zayn's eyes flit away and meet his on accident, he tries to look away. But Louis sees.  
  
Without actively meaning to, he finds Harry again through the thinning crowd of the parking lot. He's still standing with Niall who's talking to him, but his eyes are fixed on Louis.  
  
Louis' heart pounds when Harry starts walking in his direction. He's so focused on him that he doesn't notice Eleanor at all until she's got her arm around his waist and is hauling up on her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He turns quickly, maneuvering away when he sees Harry blanch and freeze.  
  
He pushes past his ex-girlfriend without a glance and moves through several people to get to Harry.  
  
"Harry, no, wait," he pleads, reaching out when he finally closes in on him. And they're in public but Louis doesn't care, "Please."  
  
As soon as Louis gets a hand around his wrist, Harry pulls away, rougher than Louis expects, and shakes his head sadly.  
  
And Harry never says it, but Louis hears it.  _I'm done. I'm sorry, i'm done._  
  
He walks away and Niall's sympathetic stare in Louis' direction does little to fix any of it.  
  
When Louis finally turns back, Liam and Zayn have on identical expressions of concern. Danielle simply looks curious at the exchange. And Eleanor.  
  
Well, if someone offered him a million pounds to try and comprehend the look in her eyes, he couldn't.  
  
000  
  
No one says anything to him about the incident. He half expects Eleanor to, but she stays quiet about it. It almost seems purposeful. He goes a couple of days without hearing from her though, so when his phone goes off with a text on Sunday evening, he has to read it twice to understand what she's asking.  
  
 _'can you pls come and get me? im at the dorm'_  
  
 **'whats wrong?'**  
  
 _'can you just please come? ill explain when u get here'  
_  
Louis pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.  
  
"What'smatter?" Niall asks, muting the tv. This is the first night he's actually gotten to see his roommate in quite a while, as Niall is usually with Harry these days more often than not (which Louis is equal parts appreciative and envious of).  
  
Louis shows Niall his phone.  
  
"Need me to ride with you?"  
  
Louis sighs. "Do you mind?"  
  
Niall doesn't even bother with a response, and before Louis knows it, they're sliding out the door and into his car. Niall sends a response to Eleanor for him while he drives across campus to her residence hall. She hasn't changed dorms since they were dating, so he remembers the floor and room number. Niall offers to stay in the car and keep the heat running while Louis goes inside.  
  
He can't imagine what's going on, what could possibly be bad enough that she's asking him to come get her. He has half a mind to text her roommate Danielle before he stops outside the door.  
  
He holds off on knocking because though the door is thick, he hears unmistakable shouting on the other side of it. It's muffled and he can't make out a single word clearly, and he should really knock now and let her know that he's here, but he listens for several more seconds instead.  
  
He hears a loud bang, and that's when he finally gives in and wraps his knuckles on the door.  
  
It goes dead silent on the other side, so quiet Louis can hear himself breathing.  
  
The door opens after several slow seconds and then Eleanor is walking out in a flurry, only stopping briefly in the doorway to say something he can't quite make out before she's nudging him back. He tries to hear what she's saying, but he's impossibly distracted by Danielle Peazer's eyes boring into his, the last thing he sees through the crack of the door before it slams shut.  
  
It's not until they're almost to the elevator that Louis notices that Eleanor's got an overnight bag in her hands.  
  
"Hey," he says after she's pressed the button to go down, "You want to tell me what's going on?"  
  
She wipes at her eyes and doesn't really look at him.  
  
"Eleanor."  
  
"I'm fine. Just drop it."  
  
"If you're fine then why-"  
  
"Can you just-" she breathes deeply and shuts her eyes, "Can I just stay at yours tonight? Please?"  
  
The elevator dings then, doors sliding open. Louis doesn't say anything, resigning as they both step on. When they meet Niall out in the car, the blonde only raises an eyebrow at him. Louis just stares back, takes the car out of park, and none of them speak the entire way back to the flat.  
  
He finds her standing in his bedroom doorway when he's laying an extra set of bedding out on the couch.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asks, voice small.  
  
"I was uh, I was going to take the couch. You can have my bed."  
  
"Right," she whispers. He tries to ignore the twinge of disappointment in her tone.  
  
Niall stays with him in the living room until Eleanor's gone into his room and shut the door. He wants to ask why she and Danielle were fighting but now doesn't seem to be the time.  
  
He's grateful that Niall is here. Louis can't even deny the fact that he's been a total basket case since the game, and suddenly feels bad for stretching Niall's friendship so thin between him and Harry. He doesn't want to be alone with this right now though, and so he doesn't make Niall leave just yet.  
  
He must doze off on his own, because when he wakes up again, all the lights are out and Niall's bedroom door is shut. Louis looks at his phone to check the time and realizes that he's only been asleep for maybe forty-five minutes. The couch isn't the most comfortable thing he's ever slept on, but he knows it's not the reason he can't sleep. It's been like this for several nights in a row now.  
  
He sees that Zayn has left him a message.  
  
 **'just checking to see if ur alright mate love you xx'  
**  
Louis' fingers hover over the keypad, knowing he should text back but he doesn't know what to say. He's not alright. At all. But he's tired of worrying his friends to death over this. He'd convinced Liam and Zayn that he was okay to be left alone for a while, so he hadn't seen them as much this weekend as he probably would have given the situation. He doesn't really have a chance to feel their absence though. He knows Niall sticking around all weekend is probably more their way of keeping an eye on him without actually being there than Niall wanting to stay in. He even missed a party on Saturday night to stay in with Louis and that's when he finally understands how adamant they all are about not leaving him by himself. And he loves them for it, for the fact that they think their plan is subtle, for the way they care enough about him to keep at it, but he hates being their burden.  
  
There's no question in his mind that he wouldn't be making it through this if he didn't have his friends. And that's when Louis thinks about Harry again, about how he had no one to help him through it when Louis left two years ago.  
  
The sudden rush of guilt is too much, and so Louis shuts his eyes tight and prays for sleep.  
  
He dreams about Harry, about when they were kids in Holmes Chapel, before things were ever complicated. Not memories, exactly, but there they are in his mind's eye, just existing as children together. At one point they're running through tall grass and Harry's holding his hand tightly, or maybe it's the other way around, and then suddenly Louis falls and his teeth are somehow knocked out. They're just gone and there's blood all over Harry's hands as he tries to help. And Louis can almost feel Harry's warm breath ghosting on the side of his head, promising that he'll be alright.  
  
And then the scene is shifting and Louis is back in that room with Harry from two years ago, filled with yellow night light and letting Harry kiss him until he can't breath. He doesn't pull back this time and he can almost feel it, losing his breath. He can-  
  
"Ha-?"  
  
He feels a pair of lips descend on his again and he struggles to breath for a second as he fights to come awake.  
  
"Lou..."  
  
He sits up frantically.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" he breathes heavily.  
  
Eleanor just stares at him blankly for a moment, mouth agape and a sadness so big in her eyes Louis can't ignore it.  
  
"Please," she whispers, moving forward again to connect their lips but Louis scrambles back and pulls the cord to turn the lamp on behind his head. When she doesn't move back, he stands from the couch.  
  
"What are you doing?" he repeats. He doesn't mean for his voice to come out as loud as it does. "Why were you doing that?"  
  
Eleanor looks stricken, face crumpling.  
  
She cries for the next half hour. She yells too. A lot. She completely breaks down, tells Louis that she's still in love with him, that she'll do anything to make it work between them, that she doesn't understand why he won't just  _try_. And Louis would like to say he didn't see this coming, but he can't.  
  
They go back and forth and the fight becomes loud enough to wake Niall up, who shuffles out into the living room right after Louis loses the last strand of his patience and admits that he's involved with someone.  
  
"You just told me you're with someone else, and you can't even tell me who it is?" Eleanor shrieks.  
  
"Is you knowing really going to make any of this easier?"  
  
Eleanor just shakes her head, like she can't understand how she got here, like she doesn't understand how any of this is happening.  
  
When she starts sobbing again, Niall intervenes.  
  
"Look, you need to calm down, love." He goes to gently grip Eleanor's shoulder but she jerks away.  
  
" _Don't touch me_."  
  
Niall steps back with raised hands.  
  
"I really hope  _she's_  worth it," is the last thing Eleanor says to him before Niall takes her back to her dorm, a sympathetic quirk to his lips when he looks at Louis over his shoulder on the way out.  
  
Louis doesn't cry until they've been gone for a good five minutes and he's sure he's alone, and there's no one there to stop him from grabbing his phone and dialing Harry's number frantically.  
  
000  
  
Harry slams his Biology text shut. His eyes are burning from lack of sleep, from stress, from crying for the last two days straight.  
  
Going home didn't help. Football doesn't help. Nothing makes it stop hurting. He'd finally convinced Niall to go home under the thinly veiled excuse of needing to study. Harry knew there was nothing the boy could really do anyway, and he already felt bad enough pawning his misery off on him for as long as he had. He's better at being alone, anyway. He's good at it.  
  
Harry rolls onto his back, grabs his phone and types in his pass code. This is a bad habit he's gotten himself into since he went home last weekend and he knows it, but he can't stop. He opens his photo album up and thumbs through the images until he gets to the first one of him and Louis. He's only got three images of the two of them together on his phone, and sometimes when he's alone he can't stop himself from looking at them.  
  
The first was taken shortly after they got home from Leeds, in Harry's bed one morning. It's an unflattering close up of Harry smiling at the camera while Louis pretends to be asleep, his face tucked into Harry's neck. The sunlight is blowing out the right side of his face, but Harry thinks he looks perfect and soft and he remembers that morning so clearly it physically hurts to think about now.  
  
The second picture is of them kissing in bed the morning after their first time in Harry's bedroom in Holmes Chapel. Louis had actually been the one to take it, and Harry is halfway laughing in the shot and it reminds him of how  _good_  he felt that morning.  
  
The last is one that Harry took while they were driving back to school after their trip home. It's mostly a picture of just Louis save for Harry's hand peaking in from the bottom of the frame, held tightly in Louis' fist over the console. Louis' mouth is quirked into a smile and the sun is framing his profile through the window and Harry remembers the overwhelming desire to tell Louis right then that he loved him. He hadn't, but he remembers how close he'd been, wanting to say it in that moment more than anything.  
  
He's thought about deleting the pictures, but he's never even come close. Maybe, if he were angrier, he could. But he's not angry at Louis. All he has is this giant fucking sadness inside of him that he can't get rid of. Sadness not only for himself but for Louis too and he doesn't know what to do with it all.  
  
He turns his phone down on the mattress and throws a jumper on. It's Sunday night and he's got class in the morning but he doesn't figure he'll be doing much sleeping anyway before then.  
  
He leaves his phone behind, grabs a football and tiptoes out of his apartment. He'll have to walk to the practice pitch from the complex, but he doesn't really mind.  
  
He thinks he sees a cloud of smoke billowing off one of the second-floor balconies, but keeps his attention forward as he crosses the lot.  
  
He used to do this a lot back in Holmes Chapel after Louis left. Several times a week he'd find himself at the Priestly football pitch after-hours. It started out as just a place where he could be alone with his thoughts. Then he started actually bringing a football with him and practicing his technique, running drills, training himself. He'd always liked football, but even he could admit that up until that point, the only reason he'd even tried out for the Priestly team was because of Louis. And Harry was never bad, but he had no delusions about being anything other than middle-of-the-pack, a reserve player at best. Louis had always been the star, the one who lived for it.  
  
His late night visits to the pitch were only about self-preservation at first, a way to distract himself from all the thoughts whirling around in his brain after Louis cut him out of his life - for those nights that it got so bad he was afraid of what he might do if he didn't get out of his own head for a minute and force himself to concentrate on something else. He hadn't expected it to pay off - all the practice. He certainly hadn't been expecting to land a scholarship, much less a starting position, at a major university football program. But here he is.  
  
He should have known it was all too good to last. Just when he'd finally allowed himself to revel in the happiness, in his unbelievable fortune of not only his position on the team, but also finally having the boy he feels like he's loved his entire life want him back, it had come collapsing around him like one big, giant  _fuck you_  from the universe.  
  
He kicks the ball harder than he means to and it goes skittering into the blackness surrounding the pitch where the floodlights don't reach. He sighs, and takes off to retrieve it. He only makes it a few paces before freezing when he sees a figure coming toward him.  
  
"Didn't exactly expect to find you here, but I can't say I'm surprised."  
  
If Harry had a list of all the people he didn't expect to run into out here, Zayn Malik would be somewhere at the top. But that's exactly who's striding toward him, Harry's football tucked underneath his arm.  
  
"Did you follow me?"  
  
Zayn shrugs, tossing the ball back to Harry. "Does it matter?"  
  
Harry doesn't answer. He accepts the ball and when Zayn doesn't say anything else, goes back to juggling it. He stays quiet and Harry gets to around seventy before he finally lets the ball drop and startles his unexpected company by kicking it his way.  
  
Zayn recovers quickly, stopping the ball with the side of his foot and pushing it back to Harry. Harry takes a breath and moves forward, goading Zayn into defending. He thinks he sees Zayn smirk as he steps forward to play along as Harry brings the ball forward, and then surprises Zayn with a quick hook turn, bringing it back the other way. Zayn laughs.  
  
It's simple moves between them after that, ones they learned in secondary school and Harry suddenly feels like he's back there, like he's twelve again and he feels like he has something to prove to this boy he's not quite sure has ever really liked him.  
  
They go back and forth for several minutes until they're both breathless.  
  
"Was there something you wanted?" Harry asks, pulling the ball back and out of Zayn's reach once again before chipping it back to him.  
  
Instead of kicking back, Zayn collects the ball, straightens and wipes his brow with his t-shirt. "Yeah. To tell you you're being a right twat, I imagine."  
  
Harry bristles, stepping forward and ready to spit fire before Zayn cuts his efforts short.  
  
"But even I know better than that," he amends.  
  
Harry tilts his jaw defiantly, "You don't know anything."  
  
Zayn laughs lightly, scrubs the short hair at the back of his head, "I know more than you think I do."  
  
Harry's eyes soften and he swallows. "And you think you've got something to say to me right now, then?"  
  
Zayn nods.  
  
Harry rakes a hand through his sweaty curls. "Whatever it is you think you understand - you just don't."  
  
Zayn nods again and Harry can only watch him curiously.  
  
"Look," Zayn starts slowly, "I can't imagine what you're going through right now."  
  
"You're right. You can't."  
  
" _He needs you_ ," Zayn spits suddenly, "More than he needs  _me_ , or Niall or Liam. He's a fucking mess."  
  
Harry shakes his head, not meeting Zayn's eyes because he can't - he can't hear this right now. It only makes things that much harder.  
  
"You know he asks Niall about you  _every_  day. He won't say it, but he needs you to be there for him. And you-"  
  
Harry's nostrils flare, "What gives  _you_  the right to say anything to me about  _being there_  for someone? Since when do you give a shit?" Harry is beyond angry now, spiteful even, years of unresolved resentment bubbling to the surface. And he's pretty sure Zayn knows it's not toward Louis.  
  
"You're right."  
  
Harry pauses.  
  
Zayn shakes his head, "I don't have any right to come down on you for walking away. I was shit to you at Priestly. And you're right, I didn't care then, when whatever went down two years ago between you and Lou. I automatically assumed it was your fault. And i'm sorry.  
  
But, you've got it wrong now. I do care. I wouldn't be here right now if I didn't."  
  
"You're here for Louis."  
  
Zayn steps forward, voice heavier, "I care about you, too. Because  _he_  cares about you. He's miserable, Harry. It's tearing him apart, what's happened - he can't stand it."  
  
"What, knocking a girl up?" Harry spits, immediately feeling guilty for it.  
  
"No, being away from  _you_."  
  
Harry pauses, angry tears building behind his eyes, heart pounding.  
  
"He's trying to give you space but I don't think he's going to make it through this without you. As much as I don't want to admit it, you're his best friend. You always have been," Zayn sighs, "And you're a lot more than that. You - You're everything to him."  
  
Harry bites the insides of his cheeks and pinches the bridge of his nose to keep from losing himself in front of Zayn. He'd doing anything to just make the other boy understand how hard this is, that he wants to be there but he  _can't_. But he knows the words will only fall short, that he'll never be able to explain it right.  
  
"It's too hard, Zayn. I'm trying, but."  
  
"No, you're not." Harry's eyes snap to his and narrow.  
  
"You've given up and you just won't admit it to yourself. And fuck, Harry, what isn't hard these days? If you and Lou were ever easy I think you both would have gotten your shit together long before Essex," a beat passes, "He never wanted to hurt you and you can hate him for what happened, but-"  
  
"I don't hate him!" Harry chokes, pain in his chest because how can Zayn think that? And oh, god, what if  _Louis_  thinks that?  
  
"But you're angry," Zayn counters. And Harry wants to tell him that he's wrong, but the feeling assaults him so strongly then that he can't. He  _is_  angry. He's so fucking angry and it's like Zayn just came and pulled it right out of him without his permission.  
  
"And you blame me for it? This isn't my  _fault_."  
  
"No, I don't blame you," Zayn says softly, "But - you don't realize what you've got, mate, how lucky you are despite all this shit. I'm sure a lot of people would put up with a lot worse to have what you have with Lou. To have what you've  _always_  had."  
  
He huffs a laugh and Harry's brows crease.  
  
"You know," Zayn's voice is softer now, "I never understood it."  
  
"What?"  
  
A beat passes before Zayn speaks again.  
  
"Did you know Louis was the first to get his J-5 patch?" Zayn laughs, continues through Harry's confusion about the abrupt shift in topic, "He had all this confidence, like he knew he could do anything, and people just  _liked_  him. And I just- I always thought he was just, like, the coolest person -  _and if you ever tell him any of this I will shave your head in your sleep_ ," he laughs despite himself, "And, well, I don't know. I just looked up to him, I guess. But no matter how hard I tried, you were the only person that he ever seemed to really give a shit about. Like,  _you_ , this Year 7 with  _ridiculous_  fucking hair."  
  
Zayn shakes his head, smiling, and Harry can't stop the gentle, watery laugh that escapes him.  
  
"And I don't know. I just never understood then. But."  
  
Harry meets Zayn's eyes, searching.  
  
"I do now. I get it."  
  
Harry bites his lip, "It wasn't always like it is now - between us. Not until..."  
  
"I know," Zayn says easily, like that fact doesn't change anything about what he just said. He tosses the ball back to Harry and turns heel to leave then, as if the conversation is done and he's said all he has to say, leaving the words to mull around in Harry's head.  
  
"Hey, Zayn?"  
  
Zayn turns, eyebrow quirked.  
  
"How's your hand?"  
  
Zayn barks a laugh, flexing his fingers.  
  
"You're welcome," he calls out instead of answering, smiling as he turns and disappears into shadow.  
  
When Harry gets back to his flat and into bed for the night, he flips his phone over one last time and sees the notification that he has an un-read voicemail. He has no doubt that it's from Louis. And before his conversation with Zayn tonight, he's not sure he could have brought himself to listen to it, but he's already bringing the phone to his ear.  
  
" _Harry_." Louis' voice is thick and tearful over the line and Harry hears him take a few unsteady breaths through the static of the recording before he talks again. " _God, i'm just so fucking sorry. For all of it. It's all my fault. This is all my fault. I promised myself I'd never hurt you again and I did. It's all because of me. It was my fault two years ago. I left you alone and you had no one. You needed me and I left you because I was so fucking scared and I'm just so sorry, Haz. I'm sorry for being selfish. I'm sorry that i'm always going to need you more than you need me. I'm sorry for every fucking thing I do. I don't blame you if you never want to see me again. I_ -" A pause then, before Louis' voice comes back a bit more collected. " _I just need you to be happy, okay? Whatever that means. That's all I want._ "  
  
There's light static breathing for a few seconds after that, and then the line goes dead.  
  
Harry doesn't sleep at all.  
  
000  
  
They've got double drills at practice every other afternoon now due to their abysmal performance last week. Louis trudges his way through it, keeping his head down for the most part. He's so tired of looking, and being looked at. He can't take anymore of his friends' sympathetic stares, of the hurt that's made a permanent home in Harry's eyes.  
  
Seeing Harry every day but not being able to reach out and touch him is torture. It's so much harder to be around him when they're surrounded by all these people. It's worse than being alone and without him. Because he's  _right there_  and it doesn't even matter because Louis can't do anything about it. Harry's right there, just within his reach - but not as his boyfriend, or his lover or even as his friend - but only as a constant reminder of everything he had, and everything he lost.  
  
The whistle ending practice for the day doesn't even offer its usual relief. Louis' tired, all the way down to his bones, but he honestly doesn't think he would've given a shit if he had to run laps for the next hour straight.  
  
Niall hands him a tumbler filled with water while they pack the bench up.  
  
"Thanks." After drinking his fill, he goes to pass it back to his friend, but Niall's attention is focused somewhere over his shoulder. His eyes flit to Louis' briefly and he nods his head forward, prompting Louis to turn around.  
  
When he does, his heart thumps. Harry's staring straight at him from around the halfway line, and he's a sizable distance away, but Louis is almost certain he sees the weak smile pulling at his lips from here. He takes a step forward. The only thing that stops him is Zayn's hardened voice.  
  
"What's she doing here?"  
  
Louis turns his head only to find Danielle Peazer walking briskly up the field from the parking lot.  
  
"Hey, lads, i'll be right back," he hears Liam mumble, sounding just as confused by the girl's presence as the rest of them. Louis wants to tear his eyes away, look back to Harry to make sure he's still there, but Danielle's eyes have him stuck in place. Though she acknowledges Liam with a gentle smile as he walks toward her, her eyes barely leave Louis'. And then he sees her gesture in his general direction, causing Liam to glance back at him and nod before jogging back over.  
  
"What's that all about?" Louis asks.  
  
"She wants to talk to you," Liam answers.  
  
"Me?"  
  
Liam shrugs. "That's what she said. Sounded important."  
  
Louis looks over at the girl, who's biting her lip and looking around almost nervously. He casts one more quick look in Harry's direction and his heart sinks when he sees that he's walking back to the locker room, eyes briefly flicking over to where Danielle is standing as he goes.  
  
"Do you want us to wait for you?" Zayn asks from behind him.  
  
Louis sighs, shakes his head, "No, you guys go ahead. I think I know what this is about."  
  
Once his friends begin their trek back to the locker room, Louis makes his way over to see what Danielle wants. He's got a pretty good idea. He doesn't see how it could be about anything other than Eleanor and the huge blow-up at his flat the night before. Danielle is the middle-man now.  
  
"Hey, Lou," she greets softly, a gentle smile on her lips.  
  
"Dani. Look, I know why you're here, alright? Last night, I didn't mean for things to happen like that."  
  
"No, Lou..."  
  
"No, I mean it. I didn't mean for her to find out like that. I know she's pregnant and I shouldn't have wound her up. I'm just trying to figure out how to deal with this and..."  
  
Louis trails off when he sees Danielle shake her head disbelievingly, eyes rolling skyward.  
  
"So she really didn't tell you, then?" she asks.  
  
Louis freezes and blinks a few times, words leaving him slowly. "Tell me what? What are you talking about?"  
  
Danielle sighs, eyes falling shut.  
  
"Louis. Eleanor's not pregnant."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I should have done this a long time ago and I apologize to those who were blindsided by this. There is potentially triggering content in this chapter in the form of a miscarriage (mentioned/non explicit), so please avoid if you could be potentially triggered by this.

  
  
_"Louis. Eleanor's not pregnant."_  
  
Everything stops.  
  
There have been a lot of defining moments in Louis' life, moments that he'll remember every sharp detail of, that he'll never be able to forget for as long as he lives; moments, good and bad, that pulled his life into a completely new direction: Harry kissing him, making the Essex team, his accident, telling Harry how he felt in Leeds and the first time they made love. Eleanor telling him she was pregnant. This is another one.  
  
"What?"  
  
Danielle's expression had grown softer. "She's not pregnant, Lou."  
  
He must have given her a look then, like he got that part, but he needed her to explain more. His mind flashes back to every minute detail of the conversation as he runs to his car, completely bypassing the now-empty locker room.  
  
_"I didn't figure it out until the other day, when she was still acting like everything was fine."_  
  
_"Dani, if this is some kind of joke..."  
  
"It's not. I wouldn't joke about something like this, Louis."_  
  
Louis still can't wrap his head around any of it. He must be dreaming. He throws his car into drive and holds back every desire inside of him that says to go straight to Harry.  
  
_"Are you telling me she was never pregnant? Was this all just-"  
  
"No. I think she was. I-. Louis, I can't really say anything else, alright? It's complicated. Just. Talk to her. Get her to explain."  
  
" **Dani**."_  
  
Louis pulls up to the residence hall dorms. His hands are shaking on the wheel and it's not because of the cold outside. He tries to keep breathing, hold down that feeling of pure relief that wants to burst free.  _Not yet_ , he thinks. Not until he knows for sure.  
  
_"I know, okay? I know it's screwed up. This is all so fucked, Lou. If I had known that she wasn't planning on telling you, I wouldn't have waited this long."  
  
"How long?"_  
  
It had been over a week. Eleanor had known for at least a week that she wasn't pregnant and she hadn't told Louis. She hadn't even tried. Not once.  
  
_"We got in a row over it, the other night when she called you. She still won't talk to me."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I threatened to tell you. She's my best friend, Louis. But you never deserved this."_  
  
He thinks he should be used to this, to having his life flipped upside down until it's almost unrecognizable. Just when he's resigned himself, someone comes and turns it all on its head. This girl, his acquaintance at best, had altered his life completely not even ten minutes ago and she didn't even  _realize_.  
  
Or maybe she did. Maybe even if she didn't know all the details, she still knew that this would mean so much more than they both know he'd ever let on.  
  
_"You deserve to be happy, Louis."_  
  
He's not sure how her words, a girl he hardly knows really, could hit him in a way where he actually believed them for the first time in his life. But they had, and he did.  
  
He'd watched her retreating form until she was just a speck in the distance. And then he'd taken off, his body full of adrenaline. It hasn't waned in the time it's taken him to reach Eleanor's dorm.  
  
He'd wanted to find Harry first, of course, but the last thing he'd ever want to do is tell him this news and have it turn out not to be true. Not that he doesn't believe Danielle (he wants to with everything in him), but he couldn't bear the thought of putting the light back in Harry's eyes only to have to snatch it away again. He never wants to do that again.  
  
And he's mad, is the other thing. Danielle had begged him to not be angry at Eleanor, even though they both know he has a right to be. But she'd been oddly insistent about it. And in that moment he'd wondered if he'd do the same thing for his best friend if the situation was reversed.  
  
Louis' hands are still shaking as he knocks on the door to Eleanor's dorm. He's not even sure if she's here, but he doesn't know where else to start looking.  
  
He can't explain the feeling in his gut when she opens the door, eyes going wide for a second when she sees that it's him. He wasn't sure up until this point why he hadn't just called her and asked to meet, but now he knows. She won't have time to think up any lies or excuses now. She'll have no choice but to tell him the truth. And he's not leaving without it.  
  
"Lou?" She tries to school her shocked expression into something else. "Is everything okay?"  
  
Oh. So they're doing this.  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
She's wary, he can tell. He wonders if he would have been able to if he didn't know what he knows now.  
  
She pulls the door back to let him into the room and Louis' eyes automatically fly around the small living space, seeking out any physical evidence that she hasn't been telling the truth. He doesn't even know what he's looking for. But he can't stop looking.  
  
He doesn't find anything out of the ordinary. He'll have to ask her. And she'll have to tell him.  
  
A part of him wants to give her one last chance to come clean on her own. The old Louis would have come barreling in and called her out, destroyed her confidence until she said whatever he needed to hear to relieve himself. Isn't that what he'd done to Harry all those years ago? Said the meanest words he could think of, broke his heart until he had no choice but to let Louis go?  
  
It's mostly because of Harry now, that he wants to prove that he can be different, that he's changed. It's harder this time, though. Now that he's not just fighting against something but _for_  something, too.  
  
He swallows thickly, "How have you been?"  
  
Eleanor looks surprised then, like she expected him to say anything but that.  
  
"I'm- I'm okay."  
  
Louis paces the room, "You never told me what the doctor said. From your appointment on Friday."  
  
He counts the seconds before she answers, and only feels a little guilty for baiting her.  
  
"He-. Louis."  
  
"What?"  
  
Eleanor pushes her hair back off of her forehead. It's only then that Louis takes in her disheveled appearance. It looks like she hasn't left her bed all day. And her eyes are bloodshot, hollow. Again, he wonders if he would've noticed had he not known what he knows now.  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
Louis watches her take a seat on the end of her un-made bed. He tries to keep his voice light, but his words come out terse and strained.  
  
"El," her eyes snap up to his. "I'm here because, if there's anything you want to tell me, then you should tell me. Now. Tonight."  
  
Eleanor watches him for several seconds, mouth slack as she takes deep, uneven breaths. Then she drops her head into her small hands so Louis can't see her face. He hears her start to cry.  
  
"She told you, didn't she?"  
  
It comes out muffled and Louis can barely hear it. He stays stock still, but his lips turn down at the corners.  
  
Eleanor looks back up at him with her big wet eyes. "I can't believe she told you. I can't believe she fucking  _told you_."  
  
"Why didn't you?" he snaps.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
She doesn't answer.  
  
"How long were you going to keep lying to me? What did you think? That I was just going to  _not notice_?" She flinches. "I just- I never thought you could do something like this, El. To me."  
  
"Lou..." She stands from the bed.  
  
"No. Eleanor, you can't just mess with someone's  _life_  like that."  
  
"Your life?" she cuts him off, "Louis, you have no idea what you put me through when you finished with me! And then you call me out of blue two months ago. And you  _slept_ with me, for fuck's sake. But this is still all my fault, isn't it?"  
  
"Eleanor, this is different. You know it. You  _lied_. You told me you were  _pregnant_."  
  
"I  _was_  pregnant," she sobs.  
  
Louis bites the insides of his cheeks and watches Eleanor wring her tiny wrists. She doesn't say anything else. Louis suddenly doesn't feel like yelling so much anymore.  
  
"What happened?" he eventually asks, voice softer.  
  
She scoffs, rolls her wet eyes, "Like you care."  
  
"I do," he mutters. Because he does. This is a girl he was with for over a year. And that was his child and even if the situation wasn't ideal, or what he wanted, he wants to know what happened.  
  
"Look, we can forget that this all happened," he offers, "I won't be mad. I'll let it go. Whatever you want. I just need you to tell me the truth, El. Please."  
  
Eleanor wipes at her eyes and tries to collect herself. Her eyes bore into Louis' and he wants to look away, but he knows he can't now.  
  
"I got an abnormal test at one of my appointments."  
  
"When?"  
  
She sighs. "Two weeks ago."  
  
Louis sucks in a deep breath, thinks about how awful the last two weeks of his life have been. Now he knows that hers must have been just as awful for a completely different reason.  
  
"I didn't even know it was something I was supposed to be worried about," she cries, voice high and choked. "I didn't understand."  
  
Louis shakes his head, like he's in that same boat now.  
  
"The baby wasn't measuring," she chokes out, "It wasn't measuring where it was supposed to be for how long i'd been pregnant. And I told the doctor that maybe I got the date wrong. But I knew I hadn't," she sobs, "I knew when it happened, but they told me there was no way because the baby was too small."  
  
Louis feels the burn behind his own eyes then.  
  
"And I didn't tell you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry but I didn't want to admit that it was actually happening. And Doctor Stenrick told me to wait another week to be sure. So I did, but. But they still couldn't find a heartbeat."  
  
They're both crying now. Louis doesn't even understand why, but his heart aches. For her, for himself. For the loss of something he never even really allowed himself to believe was a real thing. But it was. And now it's gone.  
  
His insides feel confused and torn up. He feels guilty for wishing Harry were here to help him make sense of it.  
  
He does the only thing he can think to do, which is step forward and draw the smaller girl into a hug. He doesn't have the right words to fix this, but they both know there really aren't any.  
  
He almost asks her what she'll have to do now. Medically. But he doesn't think he wants to know, really. He's not sure if he could take having to hear her say it out loud.  
  
"I'm sorry," she says against the front of his shirt, "I know I should have told you, but I didn't. And then I couldn't. I didn't want it to be real."  
  
"You wanted to be pregnant?"  
  
She steps back and wraps herself up in her own arms. "I wanted you, Louis."  
  
Louis flinches inwardly, overcome with guilt. Because no matter how mad he is that she kept this from him, it doesn't change the fact that at the end of the day, she's collateral damage in this fucked up scenario she never should have been involved in. And it's all his fault that she was.  
  
"It wouldn't have mattered though, would it?" She's looking at the carpet when she says it.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It wouldn't have mattered one way or another. It would've never changed anything between you and me."  
  
It comes out sounding like a question, so Louis has to answer.  
  
"No," he shakes his head softly, "No, it wouldn't have."  
  
"What did I do wrong?" she asks. And it's so low that he's not sure she meant for him to hear it.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I don't understand what I did wrong. What did I do? We were good. I thought I made you happy. I thought," she laughs derisively, "I feel stupid for the things I thought, actually. Now."  
  
"El..."  
  
"I just need to know, Louis," she snaps desperately, "I need to know how you were with me for over a year and then you were done. Just like that. I need to know how that happened so I can- I don't know. I just need to know what I did."  
  
He wants to grab her and shake her and say  _It's not you. This has nothing to do with you. It's me. And maybe, one day, I can tell you why. But not today._  
  
But then he realizes that he's wrong. He can do it today. He could have done it weeks ago. Because it's not changing. He's not going to change. And maybe she won't take it well. Maybe she'll hate him, be disgusted with him, stop loving him all in the span of a second. Maybe she won't understand. But he doesn't need her to. He doesn't need anyone else to understand.  
  
" _Dammit_ , Louis.  _What did I do_?"  
  
"I'm gay," he breathes.  
  
Eleanor straightens as if she's been slapped. She goes so long without speaking that Louis wonders if she even heard what he said. He definitely heard himself say it. It's the first time in his life he's ever said it out loud. To himself or to anyone else. He holds his breath without meaning to, waiting for the other foot to drop.  
  
Eleanor just sits there though, with her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes unfocused. What feels like several minutes seem to pass, though it may have only been seconds. Just when he thinks she won't say anything else, she speaks.  
  
"Did you cheat on me?" It's slow and purposeful. A simple question that needs a simple answer.  
  
"No."  
  
"Is he the reason you finished with me?"  
  
Louis' heart skips, "He's-"  
  
"I know who he is," she clips, "It's that boy. The one from the car park after the game. Isn't it?"  
  
Louis is still, and his silence is all the answer she needs.  
  
Her face crumples and she takes her seat back on the bed. She sobs pitifully.  
  
"El... I'm sorry. I can't-"  
  
"Please leave," she cries, begs.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Leave, Louis," she looks him square in the eyes, "It's over, yeah? Everything worked out for you. So just leave."  
  
Her eyes are big and wet and pleading. He wants to tell her that he's sorry. Sorry for dragging her into this. Sorry that she had to love someone who could never love her back. Sorry that he ever made her feel like she had to deal with this by herself.  
  
Mostly he's sorry because she's just a girl who got caught in the middle of something a lot bigger than her, something she never should have been a part of.  
  
Louis bites his lip and gives a small nod, because there's nothing else he can give her that's going to make any difference, and heads for the door.  
  
He walks away from Eleanor Calder then for the last time. He doesn't look back.  
  
000  
  
It's completely dark outside when Louis finally makes it back to the complex. His movements are slow and weighted. Because for all the relief that should be inside of him, there's still a layer of doubt and fear that he can't get rid of. The only place to go now is to Harry, wherever he is. But what if this doesn't change anything? What if too much has happened and Harry doesn't want him back? Louis can't stomach the thought. Because without Harry none of this means anything, does it?  
  
Without Harry, Louis doesn't really understand how any of this works. He wonders if it could have been anyone else, if anyone else could have ever made him feel this way. He doesn't think so.  
  
He grabs his phone out of his bag as he parks and curses when he sees that it's dead. He pockets it and instead of going home, takes off across the lot to Harry's building. He finds A10 and doesn't waste any time, knocking loudly until someone answers.  
  
He's got Harry's name halfway out of his mouth when he sees that it's Josh who's opened the door.  
  
"Hey, mate, y'alright?"  
  
Louis doesn't answer for a second, actually contemplating the question.  
  
"I think so," he decides, "yeah." He smiles then, a little. "Is Harry here?"  
  
Josh is giving him this sort of amused look as he shakes his head, "Nah, he took off after practice."  
  
"Oh," Louis frowns, "Do you know where he went?"  
  
Josh only shrugs, "No idea, mate. Sorry."  
  
"Oh. Right, then," Louis says lamely. He's never really talked to Josh all that much before, which is weird, considering he's done deplorable things in the boy's flat right underneath his nose. One particular instance comes to mind, when he had Harry on his knees after practice one day, watching him mouth at his cock skillfully, and he'd frozen when he'd heard Josh come home early. He remembers panicking and trying to pull Harry up from the floor, but Harry had only looked up at him with all of his faux innocence and kept his head bobbing until Louis came down his throat. Louis remembers that orgasm vivdly.  
  
"Will you tell him I'm looking for him? When you see him?"  
  
Josh still looks sort of confused, but says he will.  
  
Louis is already halfway down the breezeway, headed back to his own flat. He'd stop by Liam and Zayn's, but he doesn't want anyone but Harry to be the first person he tells this to. It's got to be him. Face to face. He jogs back to his flat quickly. He'll plug his phone into the charger and call Harry and ask him to come over. He's not sure if he'll say yes, but Louis' so full of hope right now it's hard to think negatively.  
  
He bursts through the flat door and tosses his keys on the table.  
  
"Niall!" he calls, "Have you seen my charger? It's an emergency."  
  
No answer. He must not be home.  
  
He pulls his phone out and tries to turn it on.  
  
"Shit," he breathes, throwing his bedroom door open.  
  
Before he even makes it three steps into the room, he freezes when he sees Harry lying on his bed.  
  
He gasps audibly, "Haz..."  
  
Harry sits up slowly. He looks tired and restless, like he's been here for a while maybe.  
  
"You know, I don't even know why you have one of those things," Harry gestures to Louis' useless mobile, but his voice isn't unkind.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Louis finds his voice over his racing heart, "I was just looking for you."  
  
Harry's mouth quirks up the slightest bit, "I waited for you, after practice. But you never showed up. So I came here."  
  
Louis' heart double beats in his chest. "Why?"  
  
Harry sits up all the way and swings his legs off the bed and Louis almost stops breathing altogether, silent as he waits for Harry's explanation.  
  
"Because I need to talk to you. I've been thinking a lot since the other day."  
  
"You have?"  
  
Harry nods, smiling a little. And Louis can see he's preparing himself to say more.  
  
"Louis, I thought two years ago, when you left - I thought that was the hardest thing i'd ever gone through. But I was wrong."  
  
"Harry, please. Before you say anything else, I need to tell you-"  
  
"No," Harry breathes, standing up abruptly from the bed and closing the distance between them, "No, you've done all the talking for the last few weeks and it's my turn. There's a lot I need to say and-"  
  
"H, I know, but you don't understand-"  
  
He's cut off, literally, when Harry reaches forward and covers his mouth with one of his hands. In any other situation, Louis might laugh at the gesture, lick Harry's palm to be a shit, but now it just makes him freeze in place.  
  
"Louis, you've got to let me get this out now or I don't know if i'll be able to."  
  
Harry looks so desperate then that it makes something tug in Louis' chest.  
  
"Louis?"  
  
Louis breathes through his nose and keeps ahold of Harry's gaze. He finally nods.  
  
"You promise?"  
  
Louis nods again, Harry's hand moving with his face before he finally drops it.  
  
"Okay," Harry lets a breath go. And then he laughs a little, like he might start crying if he doesn't. Louis wants so badly to reach out and hug him.  
  
"You see, i've been, uh," he sniffs, "I've been trying to stay away from you. If you didn't know."  
  
Louis resists the urge to tell him that yes, he knows and that he's been miserable because of it.  
  
"I didn't want to, at first. Dammit, Louis. I was so far gone that I think you could have told me anything that day and I wouldn't have cared. And like, after I left all I wanted to do was come back. I don't think I ever wanted to not come back.  
  
But I knew it was only a matter of time, and that you were going to have other responsibilities, to people who aren't me and I- I tried to stay away from you because I thought that's what you needed. I thought it's what I needed."  
  
Louis feels the back of his eyes burn.  
  
"But like. I still remember how I felt when you left two years ago. No matter how much has happened since then, I still remember it. I remember how fucking awful it felt to lose you and then-" he wipes at his eyes, "And then I turned around and did the same thing to you. I didn't just leave because I thought it'd be easier for you. I left because I couldnt handle it and I left you alone to deal with it. I left you. I'm so fucking sorry."  
  
Louis' throat burns with unshed tears. "Haz, no-"  
  
"Because I actually thought about it, you know?" Harry clips, "I thought - maybe a year from now, or five, or ten - maybe then I won't want you anymore but - I dont think i'm ever going to not want you, is the thing. Because all of this - it means something. It can't be for nothing. Louis, I can't feel this way for nothing."  
  
He's crying now and Louis doesn't stop himself this time, and pulls him in so he can bury his head on his shoulder.  
  
"Harry..."  
  
"No," Harry pulls back, "No, i'm not done. Fuck. It's just - I feel like i've spent my whole life waiting for you, Louis. And I don't want to give up. I can't. If I walk away now, i'll regret it for the rest of my life."  
  
Louis' heart races. "What are you saying?"  
  
"I'm saying i'm all in. Okay? I'm saying it doesn't matter what's happened, i'm here with you. I don't want to be anywhere else. Because," he reaches out to take Louis' face in his hands, "Because I belong with you, too. I always have. No matter what happens, that's never going to change."  
  
Louis' mouth falls open just as Harry surges forward and kisses him. It's raw and unpolished and a little desperate, and Louis decides that this might be his favorite way to kiss Harry.  
  
Louis doesn't want to let it end, because he missed this way too much, but the words are clawing at the back of his throat. He pulls away gently. Harry's eyes are still closed, but he's smiling and Louis can't help but think  _this is my boy; he's mine, always._  
  
Louis puts on a grin to match Harry's and they sway together for a second, smiling stupidly at one another. Once Louis catches his breath, he speaks.  
  
"So. You're saying that even if Eleanor were pregnant, you'd still want to be with me?"  
  
Harry's eyebrows crease in confusion, but he nods anyway. "Yeah," he whispers, "Yeah, that's what i'm saying."  
  
Louis smiles, whispers back, "And what if she's not?"  
  
Harry straightens. "What?"  
  
Louis' smile grows even wider, while Harry's falls off his face completely, replaced with shock and confusion. Louis lets him process, nods his head at all the un-ansked questions he can see swimming behind his eyes.  
  
"Louis. Don't joke. Don't-"  
  
"I'm not," he says seriously, grabbing hold of Harry's face.  
  
Harry stands there for several seconds, mouth open and eyes wet.  
  
"She's? She's not?"  
  
"She's not."  
  
"You know? For sure?  _Louis_. Fuck," he whimpers, throwing his arms around Louis' shoulders and burying his face there. Louis holds onto him tightly, and thinks he won't ever forget how good he feels in this moment for the rest of his life.  
  
It's as if Harry's emotions are directly tied to his. The relief he kept expecting to feel since Danielle told him the truth has finally touched him in full force, like somehow it couldn't before, like it was waiting until the moment Harry was able to feel it too. It's hard to explain, the way it sits in his body, fills up his bones and lungs and suddenly he doesn't feel like he's sinking anymore, but floating instead. Lighter. Okay.  
  
"Don't you ever fucking do that to me again!" Harry rears back to swot his arm. Louis gives a choked laugh.  
  
"Well, I was trying to tell you but you sort of cut me off, didn't you? I mean, I was afraid for my life for a second there, honestly. You seemed pretty serious."  
  
Harry tries to look indignant but winds up laughing. He pushes Louis in the shoulder again for good measure. Louis grabs his fingers and pulls him forward until they're standing head to head again.  
  
"And besides," he says softly, "I would've missed your lovely speech."  
  
There's no hint of teasing in his voice as he says it, and Harry blushes pink and looks away. Louis catches his face and pulls it back up, lets his thumb press into the center of Harry's cheek where his dimple would be.  
  
"I told my mum," he says softly, "About you and me. About me."  
  
Louis bites his lip nervously at the confession, but Harry's eyes have grown so soft and warm that he suddenly wishes he had more good things to tell him, if only so he can keep him looking at him like this forever.  
  
Harry reaches up to hold Louis' face steady so he can't look away.  
  
"I'm so proud of you."  
  
The way he says it makes Louis tear up again. "I don't deserve you," he mumbles. But Harry shakes his head.  
  
"You do."  
  
"Well, I'm working on it," Louis compromises and leans forward to kiss the protesting look from Harry's face.  
  
Harry sighs happily against his mouth and pulls them backwards until they're lying on the bed. They don't talk much after that, saying everything else they need to underneath Louis' duvet and against each other's overheated skin.  
  
They fuck gently, and then not. Like they've got all the time in the world and yet none at all, not enough.  
  
Harry's grip is unwavering as Louis sinks into him over and over, whispering promises and declarations against his skin, and Harry bucks up against Louis' thrusts and meets him halfway every time.  
  
"I missed you," Louis says, seconds before they both come apart, and when Louis collapses on top of him, Harry keeps him there, and holds him until he can catch his breath.  
  
"Later," Louis says. "I'll tell you everything later. Just - stay with me?"  
  
Harry rubs slow circles into his back, kisses the crown of his head, and mumbles, "I'm still here. No where else to be."  
  
Louis hums in agreement, letting his eyes slip shut. Harry couldn't be more right. There is no place else to be. Because Louis found home a long time ago. In a boy. In his best friend.  
  
Tomorrow he'll tell Harry about today. Every bit of it. And tomorrow, when he wakes up first, he'll watch Harry sleep and he'll think about his life and this boy and everything he's taught him about existing in the world; About choices and fate and allowing himself to not be afraid to love someone with his whole heart.  
  
For now though, he's content to reach down and tangle Harry's fingers with his and listen to them breathe. In and out. In and out.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since i'll be really busy next week and i still have more to write for the epilogue, i am posting what i have so far now because i've made you guys wait long enough. So this is just PART 1 of the epilogue! It's not finished yet. Part 2/Chapter 20 will be the last part to this fic, no matter what! I promise. Warning for lots of fluff and sex. Hopefully it makes up for the misery of the last five chapters. This is probably the most indulgent thing i've written ever, but dammit they deserve to be happy for once.

**Essex England | Two Months Later**  
  
Harry's 'no sex during exam season' rule had really taken its toll. Louis had gone along with it (with no shortage of whining and complaining), because he knows Harry is on scholarship and it was his last real chance to get his marks up for this term. They'd suffered a bit during the Eleanor incident, and Louis still feels really guilty about it despite Harry's efforts to reassure him.  
  
Louis had offered him his help with revision, which Harry accepted gratefully until they actually got to the revising part. Unfortunately, Harry didn't think having Louis' hand down his pants every hour was a 'constructive learning environment', or something.  
  
Whatever. Louis could deal with no sex (well, sort of). But in order for Harry to concentrate and get his work done, he'd pretty much had to completely separate himself from Louis for days at a time. No cuddling, no snogging, no fooling around. Period. Louis had his own exams to prepare for, so it wasn't a complete inconvenience. But he thinks maybe that the separation only made him think of Harry more instead of less, which, what the hell? Even when the younger boy isn't there to distract him, he still distracts him.  
  
Louis' been waiting almost two weeks for today. Harry's just finished his last exam a half hour ago and Louis had intended to take complete advantage of that before Niall had called him right as Harry had gotten to his flat, and told him that he was getting them take-a-way and that Liam and Zayn were on their way over. Something about celebrating the end of the term.  
  
He's on speakerphone and as Harry tosses his bag onto the floor and flops down on Louis' mattress, he offers him a lopsided smirk. Louis shoots him a 'help me' look but Harry's grin only broadens as he begins lazily rubbing on the strip of skin where his shirt has ridden up, just teasing Louis for the fun of it now.  
  
Louis stutters something into the phone, eyes stuck to Harry laid out on his bed.  
  
And it's not like Louis can tell Niall 'No thanks, mate. I'd rather spend the next four hours fucking my boyfriend until neither of us can walk straight. Maybe some other time."  
  
Louis is definitely more honest with his friends now about his relationship with Harry, but not that honest.  
  
Harry grins at him from the bed, obviously amused. So when Niall hangs up, Louis pounces.  
  
Harry yelps as Louis straddles his hips and pins him to the bed. He kisses Harry soundly before he can say anything. Harry allows it, letting Louis pull him close and hold the sides of his head and control it. It's aching and slow and perfect.  
  
Louis pulls at the front of Harry's shirt until the little inked wings on his chest become visible. He pulls away from Harry's mouth to dip his head down and trace his tongue along the tattoos.  
  
Harry groans, panting against the top of Louis' head. "You're just...gonna take both of us down then, aren't you?"  
  
Louis smirks, "I jump, you jump, right?"  
  
"I don't think that's how it goes," he laughs, and then gasps when Louis nips at his collarbone.  
  
Louis sneaks his hand down Harry's body so he can rub him through his trousers.  
  
"Lou..."  
  
Louis kisses him quickly. The younger boy groans into his mouth and Louis can feel the vibrations of it all the way down to his cock. He massages Harry with the heel of his hand before dragging his fingers along the shape of him through the denim.  
  
Harry bucks up against him before he drops his head down on the bed and inhales sharply. Louis goes for the buttons on his trousers then, pushing his hand inside and pulling Harry free through the opening in his briefs.  
  
"Lou," he chokes, "Louis, i'm serious. They're going to be here in, like, five minutes."  
  
"You want me to stop?" Louis breathes huskily into his ear, squeezing Harry at the base lightly.  
  
"God.  _Fuck_. No, but. Do you want a repeat of last time?"  
  
Louis knows the time Harry is referring to. About a month ago Niall walked in on them right as Louis had Harry bent over the end of the bed. They hadn't been naked, thank god, though it may have been even more scarring for Niall that they both had still been (mostly) dressed in their football kits. Louis still hasn't decided which would have been more damaging.  
  
Louis had been mortified. But Niall seemed to take it in stride, even if it did take him a few days to be able to look Louis in the eye again properly. They'd laughed about it, eventually, and Louis had made Niall promise to start knocking from then on.  
  
Zayn had made no such promise.  
  
"Oh, shit!"  
  
Louis pulls his hand away from Harry lightening fast, grabbing a pillow hastily to cover him up and cranes his head toward the door, glaring.  
  
"Zayn, what the fuck?"  
  
"I, uh. I-"  
  
"What's going on?" Liam enters the room then and his mouth goes slack immediately when he sees the answer to his question. " _Oh_."  
  
Louis groans, rolling off of Harry the rest of the way and letting him sit up. Harry's cheeks go red and he repositions the pillow. Louis feels awful.  
  
"Sorry!" Liam squeaks, pushing Zayn out and into the living room and shutting Louis' door quickly.  
  
Louis shoots Harry an apologetic look, sitting up until their eyes are level.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Harry smiles softly and moves the pillow off of his lap and carefully attempts to tuck himself back into his pants. He leans forward to kiss the pout off Louis' face once he's zipped himself back up.  
  
"The only thing you should be sorry for is this." He gestures down to the obvious state beneath his trousers.  
  
Louis agrees to make it up to him later that night in exchange for Harry not going into the loo to finish himself off. He insists that there's no way he'll get soft again with Louis in the room, though, so while Harry wills himself back to normal, Louis joins Liam and Zayn in the living room.  
  
He almost laughs at the expressions on their faces. They're sitting about a foot apart on the couch, staring straight at the television and not saying a word. Zayn is just still. Liam is worrying his lip, a tiny crease between his brows. All in all, Louis thinks they're at least handling it better than Niall did (who sort of squawked and covered his eyes with his hands and walked straight into the doorframe in his haste to run out of the room).  
  
Speaking of Niall, the boy shows up then with several bags of take-a-way hanging from his arms. He has to shut the door with his foot.  
  
"Christ, Niall. Is that for the five of us, or is the whole team coming?" Louis asks.  
  
Niall opens his mouth to retort, but notices the state of Liam and Zayn before he can.  
  
"What's wrong with them?"  
  
Louis glances back to the boys on the couch just as Harry finally walks out of the bedroom. They do look sort of zombie-like.  
  
"Uh..."  
  
"Let me guess," Niall says after seeing Harry, "Walked in on the two of you shagging?"  
  
Liam's eyes shoot up, his face going blood red. Louis can feel his own cheeks burning.  
  
Niall continues, unaffected. "Look mate, it can't be worse than the time I walked in on them in their-"  
  
" _Niall_ ," Louis clips.  
  
Niall only laughs, pulling two six-packs from the fridge and setting them on the living room table along with the food before plopping down on the far end of the sofa.  
  
"Okay," he says, still unfazed. "What movie are we watching then?"  
  
While he flicks through the pay-per-view, Louis feels Harry walk up behind him and squeeze his waist, lips bumping into the back of his head lightly. ( _I'm right here_.) Louis sighs, relaxing. He ignores the weird air and lets Harry pull them down on the lounge chair.  
  
He hesitates a moment before sliding into their usual position: his arm around Harry's shoulders, with the younger boy tucked against his side. About ten minutes into the movie, which Louis is only half paying attention to, Harry tugs on the collar of his shirt until Louis looks down at him. He gives Harry a questioning look, but smiles when Harry just seems to want his attention. He leans down the inch he needs to to peck him softly on the mouth.  
  
They're in full view of the other boys, which usually isn't a thing at all. So far they've been strangely okay with him and Harry being publicly affectionate. It took a few weeks of getting used to, mostly on Louis' end, but it had finally stopped feeling awkward to kiss Harry in front of his friends over a month ago.  
  
The first time he did it, it was scary and exhilarating at the same time. They didn't seem to care at all, which was strange to Louis, something that needed to happen a few more times before he finally got it in his head that they didn't give a shit, at least not anymore so than if he was kissing a girl instead of a boy.  
  
It's one thing for his friends to see him kiss Harry, though. It's quite another for them to see him with his tongue down Harry's throat and his hand around his dick.  
  
He thinks that must be why Liam and Zayn are acting so strange about it right now. He watches them inconspicuously instead of paying attention to the movie. Harry's hands tighten at his waist, but his eyes don't stray from his friends on the couch. Zayn is tapping his thigh nervously, a habit Louis' noticed since college. So he's not surprised when the boy gets up and excuses himself to the balcony a few minutes later.  
  
//  
  
Zayn has to bite back the grunt of discomfort as the freezing air outside hits him. He walks until he's pressed against the railing and breathes. It's cold, pitch black and quiet, and just what he needs right now.  
  
He turns when he hears the balcony door slide open behind him. His heart skips a little, but calms when he sees that it's only Louis. He offers him a gentle smirk. After all, this is sort of their thing now.  
  
Zayn takes a long drag of his beer and settles back around as Louis comes up beside him.  
  
It's silent for a minute.  
  
"So. Was that weird?"  
  
"Hmm?" Zayn starts a little, his whirlwind thoughts coming to a halt at the question.  
  
"You know," Louis struggles, "Harry and me. You look a little peaky. Sorry if that-"  
  
"Oh," Zayn turns to him, "No. Fuck. Sorry, no that's-"  
  
"Zayn, it's okay. Really."  
  
No, it's not okay. Yes, it was weird, seeing them together like that, but not weird in the way Louis is thinking. But in a way that Zayn has forced himself not to think about for months now. Because he just  _can't_.  
  
He turns his body all the way toward Louis' so that the shorter boy is forced to look at him.  
  
"No. Lou, honestly. I swear, it's not what you think. And I know what you're thinking because I know you, but, um, it's not. I mean. I'm sorry I made you think that."  
  
He feels like a jackass, and also an idiot. Because of course Louis would read his reaction that way. He likes to think that he's made Louis understand by now that he has nothing to be insecure about when it comes to the way he feels about Harry. But sometimes he forgets what a hard-fought thing it's been between the two of them, to have what they have. It's taken years to finally become what it is now, so of course Louis' insecurities aren't going to disappear over night. He's come a long way, though. Farther than Zayn could have ever imagined, knowing Louis the way he does. He doubts that even if he  _was_  uncomfortable about their physical relationship that it would change anything about how Louis feels, but he hates that he even put the smallest seed of doubt in his friend's head.  
  
Louis nods gently though, and seems to believe him, so Zayn doesn't say anything else.  
  
"Smoke?" Louis asks after a minute.  
  
"Oh, nah," Zayn pats his pockets out of habit, "I don't even have any on me, actually. I just needed the air, I guess."  
  
And it's just so stupid, isn't it? He quit smoking for a boy that he doubts has even noticed. And it's all so ridiculous that Zayn wants to point and laugh at himself. He doesn't mean to, but he chances a glance back inside as he takes another sip of his beer, and dammit if Louis doesn't see him do it.  
  
Louis looks like he wants to ask, but decides not to. Neither one of them have brought the Liam thing up since that day on the balcony. Not even when Liam's thing with that Danielle girl fizzled out a few weeks ago. Zayn hadn't allowed himself to feel too relieved, or foolishly hopeful over it. Because what was the point? He can see how uncomfortable Liam is right now, sitting in there on the couch but looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. That tells him all he needs to know, really.  
  
Besides, he knows that if he brought it up again to Louis, he'd just tell him to do what he told him to do last time, which is tell Liam how he feels.  
  
 _How he feels_. Like, he doesn't even understand how he  _feels_. He doesn't understand how Liam was just his friend one day and then... Well, it doesn't really matter what then. Because if Liam felt even a fraction of what Zayn feels now, has felt for the last several months since they kissed, he would have said something by now.  
  
But he hasn't. Maybe he doesn't even remember. They had both been drinking that night. The thing is, Zayn remembers it being mutual - the kiss. He can't remember who leaned in first, who made the first move. It was just - one minute they weren't kissing and the next they were. And Zayn doesn't know which might be worse; The fact that Liam might not remember, or the fact that he does, and has no intention of ever talking about it because it didn't mean anything to him.  
  
And fuck all if Zayn is going to have what happened to Harry and Louis at Priestly happen to him and Liam. He loves that boy too much to risk losing him over some ridiculous feelings that he doesn't even understand half of the time.  
  
Except, he doesn't think they could ever wind up like that, is the thing. He almost wishes that if he told Liam his real feelings, that he'd react the way Louis did with Harry all those years ago; reject him so brutally that it forces him to move on.  
  
But he  _knows_  how Liam would handle the confession. Sweet, logical Liam, who would never intentionally hurt anyone. He'd give Zayn that sympathetic head tilt he's so good at and probably even hug him. He wouldn't be disgusted, or put off, or angry. He'd be lovely. If anything, he'd just feel bad, and Zayn doesn't think he could handle that.  
  
He almost can't take the way Louis looks at him now, like he can see all of Zayn's thoughts and he knows his wanting, and like he  _hurts_  for him or some shit.  
  
Zayn keeps his eyes on the car park so he doesn't have to see the pity in his friend's eyes. He sees Louis' gaze shift in his peripheral though, and after a minute or so, he follows his line of sight into the flat.  
  
He's looking at Harry, of course. Zayn sees that the boy has moved into the center of the lounger, curled up like a cat and is lazily reaching over to steal chips from Niall's take-out container when he's not looking. And it's like - the way Louis looks at him, like he can't quite figure out how he got so lucky, makes Zayn's chest hurt.  
  
"You're staring," he declares. He can't help but be amused despite the ache in his chest.  
  
Louis blushes and turns back around quickly, schooling his mouth back into a relaxed line.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbles.  
  
"Ah, don't be," Zayn laughs, "Suppose i've gotten used to you two drooling all over each other."  
  
"We don't do that!" Louis squawks indignantly.  
  
"Yeah, it's bad, man," he teases, "You two are so sweet it's sickening. You're lucky we put up with you at all."  
  
He obviously means it as a joke, but he notices Louis sober a little anyway.  
  
"I am though."  
  
"Oh, piss off," Zayn laughs, "I was kidding."  
  
"I know. But I mean. Thanks. You know, for being cool about it."  
  
Zayn looks at him then, setting his beer down on the railing with enough force that it clinks loudly.  
  
"You shouldn't have to thank anyone for being cool about you being who you are. We'd be pretty shit friends if we cared about that."  _And i'd be a hypocrite_ , he thinks.  
  
"No, I know," Louis says softly, like he's willing Zayn's easy mood to return. "But still. Thank you for being there. Through everything."  
  
Zayn frowns a little, because it's like Louis still doesn't understand how much he means to Zayn. And Harry now, too, by association.  
  
"Lou, I don't think I could have not been there. I was just - way too close to it, you know?" He hopes that's a good enough explanation.  
  
"Probably more than you ever wanted to be, I imagine." He says it playfully.  
  
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't say that. But I don't know after tonight."  
  
Louis cocks his eyebrow in silent question.  
  
Zayn smirks, "I mean, i've seen your boyfriend's cock now, mate. Which, congratulations? I don't know."  
  
He hears Louis laugh loud and sharp before he's being pushed roughly in the arm. "Prick."  
  
"No, really. Good on you," he continues teasingly, laughing and skirting away so Louis can't hit him again.  
  
"Seriously though," he sobers, "I don't think I ever told you, but, i'm really happy that everything worked out."  
  
He sees Louis smile gently, affection blooming on his face. He watches him glance back inside at Harry. He's so, so happy for them, is the thing. And it's confusing, to be that happy for them even though it hurts to look at them sometimes. But he is. He remembers the day Louis told them about Eleanor not being pregnant. He'd come over with Harry, both smiling, and they'd all been really confused at first, but Zayn knew, somehow. He knew they'd fixed things. He was shocked when he heard the news though. And he just remembers feeling this overwhelming sense of  _relief_. It wasn't even his scare, and yet it might as well have been.  
  
He thinks, maybe, seeing Louis and Harry finally have their happiness after all of that is enough for right now. Maybe Liam doesn't have to love him. Maybe things will still be okay as long as they're all together.  
  
"Thanks," Louis breathes.  
  
Zayn nods and empties the dregs of his beer.  
  
"Don't know about you," Louis bites out, "But m'freezing my bollocks off."  
  
Zayn snorts, and holds back the joke he wants to make about how Harry wouldn't be too happy about that. He simply agrees instead, and they make their way back inside. His eyes find Liam immediately and he curses himself inwardly. His friend's attention is on the small scuffle in the center of the living room though. He turns to see Niall on his knees next to the coffee table. He's got Harry by the wrist.  
  
"Louis," he barks, "Get your crumb snatcher."  
  
Louis laughs and ruffles Niall's hair before pouncing on Harry gently. Zayn can't help his smile.  
  
000  
  
"Hazza, hurry up."  
  
Harry peers out of the crack of the bathroom door, his shirt off and toothbrush hanging from his mouth. Louis, getting the last of his kit off by the bed, watches Harry roll his eyes fondly before turning back to the mirror.  
  
The boys had finally left when the movie was over and the beer ran out. Which Louis was glad for, if only because Harry had been tracing lines along his inner thigh for the last twenty minutes of the movie and he was passed ready to lock them both in his room for the next twenty-four hours straight.  
  
He'd almost thanked the powers above when Niall had all but begged for Liam and Zayn to take him with them.  
  
Louis plans to absolutely wreck Harry tonight, and being considerate of his noise level isn't something he really has the restraint for at this point.  
  
When Harry finally leaves the bathroom, he turns the lights off, plunging them into temporary darkness until their eyes adjust. The light coming in through the window is just enough that Louis can see Harry clearly as he comes over to the bed.  
  
"Hi," Harry whispers. He's smiling, all teeth, and Louis smiles too and pulls him in.  
  
They kiss unhurried until Louis turns them suddenly and forces Harry to sit on the edge of the bed. Harry's smirk drops off his face when Louis sinks to his knees and pulls at the waistband of his briefs.  
  
Louis takes ahold of Harry's cock and bypasses any teasing, taking it into his mouth fully. Harry's grunt of surprise and the tightening of his hand in Louis' hair as Louis sucks him down makes something swoop low in his belly.  
  
Louis is still too shy to admit it out loud, but he's been fantasizing about having Harry's cock in his mouth for days now. In the two months since their reunion. They've barely spent a day apart. And after two months of almost non-stop practice, Louis thinks he's finally gotten the hang of giving head.  
  
"Fuck," Harry grunts, "You've gotten really good at this."  
  
Louis looks up at Harry through his lashes, takes in his ruddy cheeks and glassy eyes; his parted, bow-shaped lips.  
  
He pops his mouth off of Harry's cock and runs his tongue flat on the underside of it a few times, smirking when Harry whimpers roughly and bucks his hips up desperately. He tugs on Harry a few times before taking him back in his mouth. That familiar ache still twinges in his jaw, because Harry's big and no matter how many times Louis does this, his muscles can never quite get used to the strain. He sort of loves it though, another thing he's still too shy to admit out loud.  
  
He's been practicing relaxing his throat for a while now. At first, he wasn't able to get Harry anywhere near the back of his throat without gagging obscenely. Harry promised him that it was okay, that just having Louis' mouth on him at all was more than enough. But Louis had been determined. Harry is just so naturally  _good_  at everything they do, and he blows Louis' mind every time they're together. Louis doesn't understand how he does it, but he wants to be able to make Harry feel the same way, wants to impress him.  
  
So he concentrates on breathing through his nose and flattens his tongue, pausing when he feels the head of Harry's cock nudge the back of his throat. He's holding him tightly by the hips to ensure he won't abruptly snap up, and Harry's gone silent above him.  
  
Louis looks up again, lips almost to the base of Harry's length, and Harry is just staring down at him in awe, completely still like he's afraid to move. Louis blinks and swallows around him slowly, tears welling up in his eyes. Harry groans filthily and falls backwards, back arching off the mattress as he shoots down Louis' throat. Louis pulls off then, smirking and satisfied with himself. He pumps Harry loosely in his fist a few more times until he's done. Harry pants and then grins, arm slung over his eyes.  
  
"What?" Louis croaks, smiling innocently. Harry responds by sitting up and dragging Louis up off his knees. Louis' a little put off with how easily he's manhandled, but he can't complain when Harry places him down so he's straddling his waist and pulls his face down to kiss him.  
  
When they part, Harry stares him down, their noses bumping.  
  
"You drive me crazy, you know?"  
  
Louis blushes and kisses him lightly, dragging his lips across Harry's full ones. He playfully dips his tongue into Harry's mouth and yelps a little when he feels hands grip into his bum, squeezing but also pushing him forward. He's confused for a second, looking down at Harry to try and figure out what he wants.  
  
Harry only bites his lip and wriggles down between the bracket of Louis' knees until his mouth is able to reach the apex of his thighs.  
  
Okay. So this is new.  
  
Harry blinks up at him shyly as he begins slowly mouthing at Louis' cock. He licks at it, letting it bob and trying to catch it between his lips. Louis thinks he might have a heart attack. Harry takes the head of him in and sucks. Louis doesn't mean to but he jolts forward and Harry inhales loudly through his nose. Louis freezes.  
  
"Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry."  
  
But Harry's eyes are almost blown black, shaking his head at Louis' apology and wrapping his lips around the head of him again. Louis' confused for a moment before he feels Harry's hands on his arse again, pulling him forward.  
  
 _Oh. Oh, fuck. Okay._  
  
Louis thrusts forward gently, the tightness in his chest loosening when Harry squeezes the underside of his thigh encouragingly, like he's saying  _yes, that's perfect, just like that_.  
  
Harry opens his mouth a little, letting Louis slide against his tongue unchecked before closing his lips over him again. Louis has to stop, because the sight is too much and he's about to come apart.  
  
"Harry," he chokes out. He doesn't know what he's asking though.  
  
Harry closes his eyes and begins bobbing his head in earnest then, sucking hard.  
  
"Oh fuck. Harry, if you don't stop, m'gonna..."  
  
Harry blinks up at him and slides his mouth off.  
  
"Will you...?" he whispers. Almost nervously.  
  
Louis quirks his eyebrow. Harry's only response is to blush and tilt his jaw up.  
  
Louis can't breathe. "Fuck. Yeah, okay. Yeah."  
  
Louis takes a hold of himself, cock poised over Harry's face.  
  
Harry holds him loosely by the thighs and his eyes flicker back and forth from Louis' face to where he's pumping his cock. Waiting. It's the hottest thing Louis thinks he's ever seen. He moves his hand faster, watching Harry's mouth fall open slightly. It doesn't take long - several seconds at most, before Louis is crying out and coming over Harry's cheek, the seam of his lips, his jaw and throat.  
  
Harry holds him tightly by the waist as he comes down, sensing that he'd probably collapse without the support. Louis carefully swings his leg back and moves off of Harry's chest, collapsing beside him on the bed.  
  
"Holy shit," he pants. His eyes find Harry's face. He's looking straight at the ceiling, grinning from ear to ear. He laughs a little, bringing his fingers up to wipe at the mess on his face.  
  
He turns to look at Louis then, who is smiling nervously.  
  
"Been wanting to try that," Harry confesses quietly.  
  
Louis' eyebrows quirk. "You've never...?"  
  
Harry shakes his head and then licks his lips slowly. Something sharp and warm pinches in Louis' gut. He surges forward to pull the younger boy back against him. Harry goes without a fuss.  
  
They go two more rounds over the next couple of hours. Once in the bed, and then in the kitchen after Harry had coerced Louis out of the bedroom with the promise of hot food.  
  
It felt strange, standing starkers in the kitchen with his head on top of Harry's shoulder, watching him cook pancakes for them. A good strange. Something he could get used to.  
  
Louis had begun picking the cake apart as soon as Harry dropped the first one on the plate.  
  
"At least let me put syrup on it first," he'd pouted.  
  
Louis had probably made some cheeky comment then about how he'd rather Harry put syrup on him instead. He can't quite remember. He just knows that it all somehow ended with them fucking against the refrigerator.  
  
Louis is exhausted. He thinks he can even vaguely feel the soreness in his muscles already settling in. It's a good ache though. One that makes him feel giddy and breathless. Having marathon sex with Harry feels just as productive as a full on work out. And it's definitely a lot more fun. He makes a mental note to remind Harry of this fact when Harry tries to convince him that they need to go running at the arse crack of dawn again.  
  
Harry seems to be in an equal state of exhaustion, if him being on the brink of passing out a half hour ago is anything to go by. So Louis can't help but laugh disbelievingly when he feels Harry's hand swipe down his stomach before the boy rolls on top of him.  
  
"Again?" Louis huffs a laugh and brings his hand up to slide across Harry's back.  
  
Harry nips at his earlobe, "MmmHmm."  
  
Louis moans a little, laughs breathily. "Right. Okay. Just give me a few days."  
  
Harry almost cackles, and abandons Louis' neck to leave a smattering of kisses along his cheek, right beneath his eye. "In a few days we'll be home."  
  
Oh, right. Home.  
  
Home means both of them finally seeing their families for the first time in two months, and being able to bring Harry around them as his  _boyfriend_  and nothing less. It means spending the holidays with almost everyone he loves, all together in one tiny village. But as Harry rolls their hips together for the fourth time that night, Louis remembers that it also means screaming girls, hovering mothers and a childhood bed that's really too small to fit them both comfortably.  
  
Louis groans a little then and Harry kisses the pout from his lips, smile never dropping.  
  
"Right you are. I almost forgot."  
  
Harry lays open-mouthed kisses along his jaw before staring down at him expectantly. "So..."  
  
"So," Louis collects himself, letting his fingers trail down the curve of Harry's arse. "We better make these next few days count then."  
  
Harry smiles and bites his lip before Louis pulls him down to kiss him hard, tongue pushing against his forcefully as another burst of energy from god knows where hits him.  
  
Louis is suddenly so, so thankful that Niall is kipping with Liam and Zayn tonight, because the noises that Harry makes when Louis lays him down on his belly and pushes inside of him might have the Irish boy actually going through on his joking threats to move out.  
  
(tbc...)


	20. THE END

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. This is the end. ;____; Longer AN at the end for those who care. But I had a blast, guys. Oh, and there's a ton of fluff in this but I couldn't completely stay away from the angst either. Hopefully it's everything you wanted. Love you, guys!
> 
> Also, maybe refresh yourself with the end of chapter 13 before reading this? Particularly Harry and Louis' conversation in the car before they go back to school.

"Niall was right."  
  
"Hmm?" Harry glances over, distracted from his sing-a-long to a song Louis doesn't recognize. It's from one of Harry's mixes though (he's got one in every slot of Louis' disc changer by now), so no surprise there. Louis thinks it maybe sounds like Gotye though.  
  
They've been on the road for about a half hour now, headed home for the week to spend Christmas with their families.  
  
"Your voice."  
  
Harry snaps his mouth closed, blushing.  
  
Louis smiles and brings his focus back to the road. "How come you never showed me that before?"  
  
Harry shakes his head and laughs, clearly embarrassed. "Shut up."  
  
Louis grows serious then and grabs Harry's hand across the console, "I'm serious. Keep singing?"  
  
He's not really sure how he practically grew up with Harry and never knew he could sing like that.  
  
It's never something he's had to wonder about before - that there might be things he doesn't know about his best friend - and he's not sure if the discovery of that unsettles or excites him.  
  
Harry shuffles until he's leaning toward Louis, head knocking into his shoulder softly before settling there.  
  
"You should just listen to this one, actually. It's quite good."  
  
And so he does. And Harry's right.  
  
//  
  
About two more hours into their drive they hit an angry stretch of dark sky, heading straight into a thunderstorm. And Louis finds himself gnawing the inside of his cheek raw, muscles growing restless.  
  
"Is it hurting?"  
  
"Huh?" His eyes snap to Harry, "Oh."  
  
Louis lets the inside of his cheek go, tonguing over the raw skin as he realizes what Harry's asking. He's a little surprised that he remembers; that conversation seems like a lifetime ago now. The familiar ache in his knee is there, a deep throb down in the mended muscle, as it always is when it rains, but Louis usually does his best to ignore it.  
  
"Yeah," he answers softly, "Nothing I can't handle." He smiles at Harry to reassure him, but Harry still looks concerned. Louis watches him from the corner of his eye as he twists in his seat and starts rummaging through the the backseat.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Harry returns a few seconds later with two paracetemol nestled in his palm. Louis eyes the two white pills and the corner of his lip turns up. Harry must've packed them, because he certainly hadn't.  
  
"Thanks, babe," he murmurs softly, nicking Harry's water bottle and swallowing the pills gratefully. Harry is strangely silent in the passenger seat. When Louis looks over he sees him playing with the hem of his t-shirt, a small, private smile on his lips.  
  
They stop at a petrol station thirty minutes later. Harry goes inside to pay and while Louis waits, Harry's phone goes off with a text from his mum asking if they're close.  
  
'about an hour to go x' he types back for him, knowing he won't mind.  
  
His heart skips a little when, after closing the messages out, he sees Harry's weather app opened for their route home. He hasn't touched his mobile once since they got on the road, so Louis figures he must have been checking it before they even left Essex.  
  
Louis smiles to himself and when he looks up, he's greeted with the sight of Harry making his way back to the car with an armful of snacks and drinks.  
  
Louis steps out of the car to meet him, feeling warm despite the subzero temperature.  
  
Harry eyes him curiously when Louis reaches out to tug him by the wrist and pull him forward. Harry opens his mouth to speak, but stops when Louis leans in and kisses him twice; once on the cheek, and then on the lips, before letting him go.  
  
Harry looks a little dazed, biting his lip, and Louis just ducks his head down and smiles, turning away to fuel up while Harry gets back in the car.  
  
They sit in comfortable silence during the last hour. The rain is gone and the painkillers have done their job, which he tells Harry when he asks how he feels again for the thousandth time. It somehow segues into a conversation about football.  
  
"What would you have done if you couldn't have played anymore? After your accident?" The question startles Louis a little, but it seems like something that Harry has been waiting to ask for a while, maybe.  
  
He clears his throat and tries to think back to the days after his wreck, tries to remember. A lot of weird thoughts were going on in his head around that time, feelings he didn't understand. And though most of them make sense now, he still doesn't know if he could explain it properly. It all seems so distant, like it was a lifetime ago.  
  
"I dont know really. I guess I never told myself that it was even an option."  
  
He sees Harry nod. He doesn't push Louis for more than that, and Louis wonders if Harry thinks he's made him uncomfortable. He reaches a hand over the console to intertwine their fingers, to reassure him that he hasn't.  
  
"How did you get so bloody good?" Louis laughs abruptly, cutting the mood.  
  
It's something he's wondered since Harry showed up at school, but hasn't ever asked. When Louis left Holmes Chapel, Harry wasn't exactly a prominent player on the Priestly team. He hardly got any playtime at all, actually. If Louis had allowed himself to think about Harry during those two years they were estranged, he doesn't think he would have pictured him still playing football. He'd always had his suspicions that Harry only tried out because of him anyway, so when he saw Harry's name on that scout list so many months ago, it had surprised him.  
  
Harry laughs at the question, un-offended. His voice grows a little soft then, like he's choosing his next words carefully.  
  
"I just...needed something to throw myself into? You know?"  
  
There's a lot of weight behind the words, a lot of blank spaces that Louis can easily fill in for himself. He nods, and squeezes Harry's fingers.  
  
"But, uh, yeah. Never actually thought i'd be playing at uni, if i'm honest."  
  
Louis shoots him a disbelieving look.  
  
"Suppose I have you to thank for that, actually," Harry smirks.  
  
The mood has somehow grown playful without Louis noticing. He grins. "Me? I'm sure I don't know what you're referring to, babe."  
  
"I happen to have it on good authority, though, don't I."  
  
Louis quirks a brow, voice teasing, "Do you now?"  
  
Harry grins and nods, "Yeah. I believe the words  _highly recommended_  were spoken."  
  
Louis laughs sharply, head tossed back on the seat, all the while silently cursing his head coach.  
  
"Well, considering your name was the only one I circled, I can see how Cowell might have gotten that impression."  
  
Harry's mouth hangs open a little bit. Louis continues, "And, as it turns out, I was completely right about you. So, I just look like a genius, really."  
  
Harry rolls his eyes fondly and pinches Louis in the side, causing him to yelp, resulting in the car swerving a little.  
  
Harry makes a show of screaming for his life, but he's laughing as Louis rolls his eyes and straightens them out.  
  
"If you get us killed before Christmas, my mum will murder me."  
  
Harry snorts. "If we're already dead, she can't murder you."  
  
"Well, then, she'd resurrect me, yell at me, then kill me, then pass me off to your mum to do the same."  
  
Harry cackles, "And what's my punishment then?"  
  
Louis snorts, "Nothing too terrible, I imagine. With that face."  
  
He reaches over to pet the underside of Harry's jaw. Harry laughs and swats his hand away.  
  
"Shut it."  
  
" _Quite the charmer_ , as well."  
  
Harry rolls his eyes. "Yeah, hopefully charming enough to convince my mum to let you sleep over a few nights, yeah?"  
  
Louis makes an amused sound. "And you tell me I can't go a week without sex."  
  
He expects Harry to maybe pinch him again, but instead he just makes a small whining sound. Louis glances over, mouth slack.  
  
"Oh, you're serious then?"  
  
Harry blinks, pouts a little, then nods.  
  
Louis shakes his head, "Alright babe, just make sure i'm not there when you ask her."  
  
Harry's brows come together. "Why?"  
  
"Your mum is scarier than mine."  
  
"She is not!" Harry laughs.  
  
Louis shoots him the best bemused look he can while still driving, but it falls a little short. He doesn't say anything else.  
  
The car goes quiet for a moment, and Harry must notice his thoughts.  
  
"You know she's not angry with you, right?"  
  
Louis shrugs, uncomfortable. They haven't really talked about this. Louis never brought it up because he was afraid to find out how Harry's mum felt about what happened with his ex-girlfriend. Harry had told her everything, he knew that much, but he never pressed Harry for her reaction. Because he doesn't want to ever know for sure how upset Anne must have been with him, especially after he'd given her that unspoken promise to keep Harry's heart safe this time. He's not sure why Harry never brought it up or tried to talk about it. Maybe it just wasn't a big deal, or worth mentioning. But with Louis' luck, he doesn't want to bet on that.  
  
"She's not. Honest. Like..." Harry takes a breath, and Louis holds his.  
  
"I don't know if you two talked, the last time we went home or something, but when I told her about, you know - she wasn't angry at you."  
  
Louis looks at him thoughtfully, and exhales a bit.  
  
"She loves you, Lou. You know, I think she knew. Maybe. This whole time. Sort of what happened between you and me."  
  
Louis nods a little without meaning to. Because he remembers that morning with Anne at the kitchen table, remembers her careful observations - how they were right on point.  
  
"But she was so happy when I told her, Lou."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You know," he struggles, "That we were gonna be okay."  
  
Louis shuts his eyes for a second and smiles a little, feeling a bit lighter.  
  
Harry curls up and rests his head on top of Louis' arm across the console, wild curls tickling his skin.  
  
"Okay," Louis concedes. "But that doesn't mean she's going to let me stay the night with you on Christmas eve."  
  
Harry laughs, "You know that's not the only night we're going to be home, right?"  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. "Yes. I'm aware. But that's the most important night. It's my birthday."  
  
Harry kisses his arm. "I know."  
  
"Well."  
  
Harry fucking  _giggles_. "Well..."  
  
"Birthday sex, Curly!"  
  
Harry cackles and lifts his head.  
  
" _Don't laugh_. It's a tradition I am tragically robbed of every year."  
  
"Just how have you survived this great tragedy for twenty whole years?" Harry intones.  
  
Louis lifts his hand and pushes Harry's face away, but Harry only laughs and nuzzles back into his arm, and Louis lets him.  
  
"Well, maybe this year will be different then."  
  
Louis snorts, "Not likely. What are we going to do? Do it behind the Christmas tree?"  
  
He thinks Harry laughs for the next several minutes straight. Eventually Louis can't contain his own smile, little crinkles forming around his eyes. And maybe it's the open road, or all of his and Harry's things mixed and shoved together in the back seat, or maybe the vibration of Harry's laughter on his skin, the sound of it. He's not sure what it is. Maybe it's all of it.  
  
But Louis thinks if he could bottle up a feeling and keep it, this would be one he'd like to keep.  
  
000

Jay almost knocks Louis over when they finally get to his house. The girls are still at school, their last official day before they're out for winter hols, so it's just Jay when they get there, and she'd been expecting them, but you wouldn't know it with the way she reacts when they walk through the front door. She nearly tackles Louis to the ground like she hasn't just talked to him a few hours ago.  
  
When she finally pulls back, her eyes only linger on him for a second before they fall to Harry, who's been trailing behind sheepishly. Louis swears he sees the wetness in her eyes.  
  
"Hello, darling," she says, and wraps Harry in a hug just as tight as the one she gave Louis. That familiar warm feeling he gets when he sees Harry with his family overtakes him again. And he suddenly remembers his mother's shaky, tearful sigh of relief when he'd called her and told her the news about Eleanor. It still gives him goosebumps when he thinks about it.  
  
 _"And Harry?"_ she'd asked,  _"Does he know? Is he with you? Is he okay?"_  
  
That's when Louis had finally understood how happy his mum really was for him. For both of them.  
  
He suddenly feels really, really happy to be home again. Especially here with Harry.  
  
"How long do I get you for this time?" She asks, looking at both of them. Louis smiles and looks at Harry.  
  
"Erm," Harry starts, "Until the 29th, I think."  
  
"Oh? Got plans for New Years at school then?"  
  
"Yeah," Louis interjects, "All the boys are going back then as well."  
  
"Oh, right. Did Zayn make it home alright, then?"  
  
"Yeah, he did," Louis says. Zayn's parents had moved to Bradford last year, so this was his first Christmas away from Holmes Chapel.  
  
"Good, good. Well get in here," she leads them to the living room, "Sit down a minute. I'll go make you something to eat. I'm sure you're knackered from driving."  
  
Louis nods. "Alright, just give me a mo. M'gonna go put my stuff in my room."  
  
"Well, see if you can wrestle it away from your sister, first."  
  
"What?" Louis squawks, head snapping back to look at his mother in disbelief.  
  
Harry has to hide a laugh behind his hand.  
  
"You gave Lottie  _my room_?"  
  
"Louis, you've been at uni for three years now, love."  
  
" _Two and a half_ ," he argues, and glares at Harry when the younger boy snickers from behind him.  
  
Jay sighs, exasperated already. "Well, i've already given it to her and I can't very well take it away, can I?"  
  
Louis scoffs, "Maybe you can't, but I can."  
  
"Oh, would you calm down. The couch in the den is perfectly nice."  
  
Louis sputters, and Harry really can't hide his amusement now.  
  
"The  _couch_? Mum! You didn't even ask me," he whines, "Are you trying to get rid of me?"  
  
It's a cheap trick and Jay actually  _laughs_.  
  
"Harry," She looks past her son's shoulder, "Would you sort your boyfriend out, dear? I've got to get dinner on."  
  
Louis' mouth drops open like a fish and Jay laughs louder than before. He turns to look at Harry with a pout, silently asking for help.  
  
Harry is biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing or smiling or both. He reaches out to grip Louis' shoulder and squeezes once.  
  
"Whinging isn't cute, babe," he says, and smacks a small kiss to Louis' forehead, which sort of leads Louis to believe that Harry does think it's a little bit cute, but  _so not the point right now_.  
  
Louis can see his mother smiling fondly out of the corner of his eye, but ignores her in favor of giving Harry his best betrayed look.  
  
"Oh, I see. Two against one."  
  
"Oh, honestly," Jay laughs, and turns heel to walk into the kitchen.  
  
Louis ignores her again. "You're supposed to be on my side, Haz."  
  
Harry's amusement wanes a little then, but it's still there, just softer around his eyes.  
  
"Always on your side," he says softly, to where only Louis can hear, and kisses his temple.  
  
Louis sighs. He's not really angry. He's a little put off that he no longer has a room in his own childhood home to call his, but he's pretty much known that this was a losing battle since the conversation started.  
  
"If it's really that big of a deal to you," Jay calls from the kitchen, "I'm sure Lottie wouldn't mind bunking with Fliss this week.  _If_  you ask nicely."  
  
Louis huffs, "I'm not going to ask my little sister to  _borrow_  my own room. This is unjust. I refuse to sleep under this roof. I'll go where i'm wanted, thanks."  
  
"Alright, dear" Jay says, unbothered, "Harry, love, would you call your mum and ask her when she wants to go to the shops? My hands are bit covered."  
  
Louis would like to say he's surprised to see Harry's shit-eating grin on when he turns around to face him, but he's really really not.  
  
"Yes ma'am," he answers pleasantly, eyes never leaving Louis'.  
  
"Hey, roomie."  
  
" _Fine_ ," Louis concedes, lifting his eyebrows and crossing his arms, trying not to smile, "But I'm waiting in the car while you ask her."  
  
Harry just beams harder.  
  
000  
  
So Harry might have over-sold it a little. Because Louis somehow ends up getting assigned to Gemma's room, at least until she comes home on Christmas Eve in two days.  
  
"You never open with your highest offer, Harold. Have I taught you nothing?"  
  
Harry's frowning adorably, annoyed with himself as he helps Louis bring his things upstairs.  
  
Louis' just thankful that Anne and Robin were out and Harry had to call her to ask if Louis could stay. No matter what Harry says, Louis still doesn't feel ready to see her again quite yet. He's not afraid. He just feels weirdly sensitive about disappointing her, about her thinking that he'd been careless with Harry's feelings again. Even though she's been told the truth of the situation, the insecurity still gnaws at him.  
  
"I didn't mean to. I just got over-excited." His voice is slow and almost child-like.  
  
Louis laughs and straddles Harry's thighs where he sits on top of Gemma's made up bed.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Harry squeezes him around the hips and pulls him closer, humming into his neck and kissing him there. Louis cards his fingers through Harry's curls and pulls until he's got their mouths slotted together.  
  
He and Harry have practically been in each other's back pockets for the last two months. Harry rarely sleeps at his own flat anymore. It's always just  _them_. And the boys, sometimes. As much as they both wanted to come home, they're now realizing that it means leaving their bubble for the first time since things got good again.  
  
He knows they're both being a little too clingy with each other, and that a week sleeping apart wouldn't have killed them. It probably would have been healthy, even. But fuck it, Louis thinks, grinding down into Harry's lap. They're still in the honeymoon phase, as his mother called it a few weeks ago over the phone, and Louis' going to keep enjoying it.  
  
He pulls at the hem of Harry's jumper, desperately trying to get it off.  
  
"Mmm," Harry separates their mouths. "Not in here."  
  
Before Louis can protest, Harry has picked him up off the bed and is physically carrying him across the hall to his own room. It really shouldn't turn Louis on as much as it does.  
  
They fall onto the bed and Louis' fingers go straight to the buttons on Harry's jeans.  
  
"Ugh," Harry groans, going to do the same for Louis, quickly getting him undone and pulling his cock free.  
  
"Think you can be quick?" he asks against Louis' mouth, hitching his breath when Louis gets a hand around him. "Can't remember when mum said she'd be back."  
  
"Shouldn't be a problem," Louis breathes and pulls Harry's lips back to his.  
  
//

When Anne comes home a half hour later, there's no more avoiding it. She hugs Harry first, long and tight, while Louis hovers in the background.  
  
When they break away, he half expects for her to greet him politely and then busy herself with something, but instead she makes a beeline straight for him as soon as she's out of Harry's arms. She smiles warmly and pulls him in.  
  
"Good to see you," she murmurs.  
  
He lets a breath go, hugging her back.  
  
He sees Harry smile at them over Anne's shoulder, and the insecurity - it ebbs a little.  
  
000  
  
At Jay's insistence, they all end up going back over to Louis' house for dinner that night.  
  
As he, Harry, Anne and Robin make their way inside, Louis feels Harry tug back on his wrist, making him pause in the doorframe. Louis tilts his head back and his breath hitches a little when he realizes how close they are.  
  
"Are you nervous?" Harry murmurs.  
  
Louis glances inside then. He sees his mum talking with Anne by the fireplace, warm smiles on both their faces. There's Lottie on the sofa, texting a mile a minute as Fliss tries to peek over her shoulder. Then he spots flashes of blonde hair as the twins bounce around the christmas tree excitedly (it looks like they've convinced Robin to help them hang up yet another wave of paper craft ornaments they made at school). Louis smiles.  
  
He turns back to Harry. "I think i'm good," he says, and reaches down to take his hand.  
  
Jay and Anne have little private smiles on their faces as their sons walk into the house, but Louis is focused on the rest of his family, the ones he hasn't seen yet. He's not worried what his little sisters might think. He knows they love him no matter what. He's actually excited, if he's honest, to finally bring Harry home to his family as his boyfriend.  
  
Lottie spots them first. And okay, maybe Louis' a fraction nervous about her reaction, and wonders if he should maybe sleep with one eye open just to be safe.  
  
Jay had dropped the hint that all the girls pretty much knew now, at least about Louis - though he's still not too sure how much the twins understand. He's not sure any of them know about  _him and Harry_  though. But when he catalogues the expression on Lottie's face, he notices that she doesn't look all that surprised to see their intertwined fingers, though her cheeks do go a little pink. He can sympathize. Harry isn't the easiest person in the world to get over.  
  
Fliss is looking at them now as well with a little smirk on her face.  
  
"So. Do I get a hug, or am I yesterday's news already?"  
  
Lottie cracks a smile then and rolls her eyes while Fliss laughs and bounds up from the sofa to wrap her arms around his waist. Lottie follows shortly after.  
  
"Missed you guys," he mumbles against the top of their blonde heads.  
  
"We missed you too, Lou," Felicite replies, "Lottie stole your room, by the way."  
  
"Fizz!" Lottie huffs, looking at Louis a bit guiltily before plopping back down on the couch.  
  
Louis sighs mock-solemnly, "So i've heard. I guess I can never come home again, seeing as i've been  _pushed out of the nest_ ," he raises his voice to make sure his mum hears the last part. He thinks she does, if the derisive eye roll he gets in response is anything to go by.  
  
"No!" cries Phoebe, who's migrated over from hanging ornaments, flattening her tiny body against his legs and tilting her chin up until it rests on his hip and she's staring straight up at him. "You can share with me and Daisy, Lou."  
  
"I can?" Louis asks, widening his eyes for effect.  
  
She nods the best she can with her chin still plastered against him. "We will make room for you. You have to visit us or we will miss you too much."  
  
Louis' heart melts, "Of course i'll visit you, silly head. I'm only joking. Did you ask Daisy if it's okay to share your room though?"  
  
Phoebe's tiny eyebrows pull together. "She will not mind. But I will ask her."  
  
Louis laughs softly, petting her head. When his eyes flick up to find Daisy, his heart stutters when he sees her being held by Harry over by the fireplace. She's got her tiny arms wrapped around his neck with her head resting on his shoulder, and he's gently swaying her from side to side as he makes small talk with Jay and his parents.  
  
Something weird and warm twists in Louis' chest.  
  
The same feeling hits him again when later that night Phoebe asks Harry to lift her up so she can put the star on the top of the tree, and he agrees excitedly even though she and Daisy have spent the last hour turning him into a human gift box - tape and ribbon wrapped around his body and tinsel stuck in his hair.  
  
Years later, when he recalls the memory, he'll understand exactly what it meant, what it was. But for now, he just watches and lets himself feel.  
  
000  
  
Anne informs them at dinner that Harry's aunt, uncle and cousins are coming into town a day early and are staying until after Christmas. So Louis' time at Harry's is cut even more short from what it originally was. He'll most likely have to sleep on the den couch tomorrow night, and he's already dreading it.  
  
 _'ill come sleep on it with you'_  Harry texts him.  
  
Louis rolls his eyes and bites his lip, shifting down into the covers of Gemma's bed to get more comfortable. At first Louis had done it to be funny, going into Gemma's room instead of Harry's when they got back from dinner at his house earlier. He's sure that Anne and Robin don't really care about them sleeping in the same bed, but the look on Harry's face when Louis had kissed him goodnight and gone straight into Gemma's room was priceless. He'd been half-way out of her bed to go join Harry in his when his mobile had buzzed with a text message. Louis played along, because it's sort of fun to pretend to be sneaky. He wonders idly if this is what things would have been like if they'd gotten together when they were younger and still in college, but doesn't let the thought fester.  
  
 **'yeah bc that will make it more comfortable'**  
  
 _'better than sleeping next to phillip. he snores.'_  
  
Louis snorts. He remembers Harry's younger cousin easily, though he's only met the kid once or twice. Very awkward. Very nasally.  
  
 **'you snore x'**  he texts back, just to be a shit.  
  
 _'i do not!'_  
  
 **'do so. quite terrible. we should probably take you to a specialist.'**  
  
 _':('_  
  
Louis laughs into the sheets, picturing Harry's face. His phone buzzes again.  
  
 _'youre mean.'_  
  
Louis bites the inside of his cheek and bounds up from the bed, making his way across the hall to Harry's room. He thinks he vaguely hears his phone go off again from where he's left it buried in Gemma's covers, but doesn't go back for it.  
  
He easily spots the shape of Harry underneath his duvet along with the dim glow of his mobile. He tiptoes over, pulls the covers back and climbs on top of him. Harry's little gasp of surprise turns into a moan when Louis leans down to kiss him.  
  
"Am not," he says, once he's pulled back and pressed his forehead to Harry's.  
  
Harry sighs and rests his hands on Louis' waist. They lay in silence for a minute, just breathing against each other. Louis' eyes grow heavy, and just as he's about to fall asleep, Harry says, "I think tonight went well."  
  
"It did," Louis mumbles into his neck.  
  
"Do you think I passed the parent test, then? Am I boyfriend material?"  
  
Louis snorts.  
  
"Hey, you don't know," he pouts, "I could be bad news."  
  
Louis nuzzles his face into Harry's neck, and mumbles sleepily, "Sure you could, babe."  
  
He's not trying to fall asleep, but Harry's fingertips are running down his sides unchecked and it's making his brain fuzzy.  
  
"Do you think I got your mum's seal of approval, then?"  
  
Louis snorts weakly. "If by seal of approval you mean 'clearly likes more than own son, probably wants to adopt' then yes."  
  
"Oh, shut up."  
  
"You're so mean to me. I don't know why I keep you."  
  
Harry digs a long digit right beneath one of his ribs and he jerks, slipping off until he's laying flat against Harry's side.  
  
"Don't. M'too tired to fight back."  
  
Harry scoffs, and Louis notices that he sounds a bit tired too now.  
  
"Shouldn't you be getting back to your assigned room? I  _snore_ , remember?"  
  
"Hmm," he pets Harry's cheek blindly, eyelids too heavy to open again. "Love your snores."  
  
Not entirely true. But he loves Harry, so, almost the same thing.  
  
000  
  
"That's quite enough, babe."  
  
"But I like the way it tastes," Louis says.  
  
"Yeah, but if you put anymore in there it won't set properly."  
  
Louis huffs and Harry smiles, glancing at Louis' face from where he stands behind him, carefully monitoring the dessert Jay put him in charge of making. Or, well, the dessert Harry had been in charge of making. Jay won't exactly let Louis near an oven after a pretty bad cooking disaster the Christmas before, but Harry felt bad for him, so when Jay left to go get some more last minute ingredients from Tesco, he'd pulled Louis in front of him and instructed him on what to do.  
  
"Okay. I'm going to add this in a little at a time and you stir counter-clockwise. No, other way," he giggles, reaching out to correct the motion of Louis' hand.  
  
"This looks awful," Louis comments, lip curled in concentration.  
  
"No it doesn't. S'how it's supposed to look."  
  
He's only lying a little. Louis' actually doing a pretty good job. Harry pulls his hands back and places them on his own hips so Louis can really do it by himself. He keeps his head tucked over his shoulder though, watching.  
  
"What if it's bad and no one wants to eat it?"  
  
"I'll eat it," Harry says easily, and almost rolls his eyes at himself. But he really can't help it sometimes.  
  
"You sap," Louis says, lifting the spoon covered in thick yellow cream to Harry's lips. Harry laughs and pushes it away, but not before some of the contents smear on his lips.  
  
"You're supposed to cook it first."  
  
Louis laughs, unabashed, "Oh. Oops. I was trying to be properly domestic."  
  
Harry licks his lips and only wrinkles his nose a little, breathing a laugh against the side of Louis' head as the shorter boy starts stirring again.  
  
He hears a soft clicking sound from beside him somewhere, and turns just in time to see Jay lowering her camera phone.

"Aw, mum, really?" Louis complains. Harry just smiles and blushes a little, stepping back while Louis cleans his hands with a dishrag.  
  
"Oh, shush, it's cute. You'll want to remember this stuff one day, you little nit."  
  
Louis just shakes his head and smiles privately, but Harry catches it.  
  
"We're done with the filling," Harry pipes up, "Should I pre-heat the oven?"  
  
Jay's eyes snap away from her son and land on Harry. There's a small smile on her lips that Harry can't really read as she nods her head.  
  
"Yeah, go on. I got enough to make another one tomorrow as well. Um, Lou, while Harry's doing that, can I talk to you for a moment, please?"  
  
"Sure. It's all yours little chef," he quips, handing Harry the dishrag and following Jay out of the kitchen. Harry rolls his eyes and throws the rag over his shoulder.  
  
He's just got the filling poured into the crust, waiting for the oven timer to go off when he hears Louis' raised voice from the living room. It's a bit muffled through the wall, but Harry can still make out little phrases as his voice grows louder and louder.  
  
"-can't believe you, mum!..... -said you'd never let him come back here! and it's my birthday tomorrow. you said..... -no, this is bullshit!"  
  
"Louis Tomlinson!"  
  
Harry bites his lip and turns the oven off, dessert forgotten. He doesn't want to intrude or eavesdrop, but Louis sounds really upset. He drops the dishrag on the countertop and walks toward the mouth of the kitchen, but freezes when he hears his name, spoken tearfully.  
  
"-can't expect me to stay here..... -but I don't want to see him, mum!.....Harry's! I'll stay at Harry's.....-I won't have to tell him anything! I don't care if he can hear me. He already knows everything..... -because I actually tell him things, mum! It's not some big secret!"  
  
Harry doesn't hear much else then, just the sound of Jay tearfully telling Louis to come back and Louis stomping up the stairs. He takes off then. He knows how Louis gets when he gets upset like this. He takes it out on whoever gets in his way, even the people he loves.  
  
Jay opens her mouth to speak when she sees him cross the living room.  
  
"I've got him," he cuts her off gently, and waits for her to nod softly before following Louis upstairs. He finds him outside of his bedroom door, now Lottie's, knocking on it firmly.  
  
"Piss off!" he hears Lottie yell through the wall.  
  
"Lottie, open the door!"  
  
"No!" she yells back, and then yells something else about their dad that Harry can't quite hear.  
  
"Lottie!"  
  
Harry bounds down the hall when Louis starts pounding on the door again.  
  
"Lou, Lou, stop. Come here." He reaches his hand out to curl around his boyfriend's bicep but Louis pulls out of his grasp.  
  
"No, this is bullshit, Harry! She's letting him come back here. For bloody  _Christmas Holiday_. Like everything is just fucking forgiven now. Like what he did doesn't even  _matter_."  
  
Harry tries to reach out for him, voice low and soothing, "I know, it's okay. Look-"  
  
"No, it's  _not okay_."  
  
And Harry pauses, heart breaking at the helplessness in Louis' voice. The rawness, the hurt. He suddenly remembers - how bad it was when Louis' step-dad left them a few years ago. It's one of the last big things he remembers before he and Louis fell out.  
  
He holds his hands out, hovering over Louis' shoulder and the side of his neck, gently coaxing him forward. "I didn't mean it like that," he breathes calmly, "Please, come here. I'm on your side. I just need you to calm down. Please."  
  
Louis looks at him with red, watery eyes, and the moment Harry sees the assent in them, he surges forward and wraps Louis up.  
  
Louis cries against his collarbone, hands fisting at the back of his jumper. Harry rubs his hands down Louis' back soothingly, and then brings one to rest against the back of his head, holding him there and pressing his lips to his temple.  
  
He doesn't notice that Lottie's opened the bedroom door until he sees her out of the corner of his eye, watching them as he holds Louis in the hallway.  
  
//  
  
Louis sits curled up on the den couch, watching Harry through the porch door, pacing back and forth on his mobile. His face feels tight where tear tracks have dried and his throat is sore from crying. He apologized to his mum for yelling at her, but asked if he could be left alone for a while.  
  
He's still angry and he can't pretend he's not. He'd thought that he and his mum were on the same page when it came to Mark, but apparently Lottie had finally worn her down. Now, Harry seems to be the only one left who really understands - the only one who won't look him in the eye and try to minimize what a fucked up situation this is; try to talk him into "being a good sport" and forgiving and forgetting. It's hard to forgive someone who hasn't even spoken to him in almost three years. It's hard to forgive someone that hasn't actually asked to be forgiven. Louis would sweep a lot of things under the rug for his family, but he doesn't think this can be one of them.  
  
He knows that people make mistakes. His own still haunt him. But this - this isn't the same thing, is it? Maybe. Maybe their reasons for leaving were similar - because he couldn't handle it, because he was afraid of something, whatever - it doesn't matter, because Louis learned first hand that you can't just pop in to someone's life again and demand forgiveness so you can sleep better at night.  
  
It doesn't work like that. He knows that now better than anybody.  
  
His eyes don't leave Harry as he talks on his phone through the glass. Louis doesn't know who he's talking to. He just told him he'd be right back and to stay put. Louis doesn't really feel like being around anyone else at the moment anyway, so it wasn't a hard request to follow. He tries to get comfortable on the couch, but he really doesn't want to sleep here tonight.  
  
His dad is supposedly showing up later that night, said he wanted to "spend a proper Christmas with his family". At least that's what his mum told him earlier when she blindsided him with the news out of nowhere.  
  
Anger starts ballooning in his chest again just thinking about it, but luckily Harry walks back in the house then. He stands over Louis on the couch, and Louis suppresses the need to pull him down and burrow against his chest.  
  
"Everything alright then?" Louis asks.  
  
Harry frowns down at him, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he reaches down to grab Louis' hand and pull him up from the couch gently.  
  
"Is there anything you need here?"  
  
Louis' brows draw together. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Like clothes, toothbrush. Overnight stuff?"  
  
Louis looks around, "Um, yeah. I brought a few things over this morning. Why?"  
  
"Go and grab them."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Because you're not staying here tonight."  
  
"Wait, but. What do you mean? What about your aunt and uncle, your cousins?"  
  
He feels Harry's fingers on his neck then, thumb tracing along his jaw briefly.  
  
"It's handled, alright? Just go get your stuff. I'll go talk to your mum." Harry steps back, but Louis grabs his wrist before he can get away.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Harry, do you- I mean," he struggles, swallowing hard, "Am I wrong about this? Am I being a hypocrite, or-"  
  
" _No_ ," Harry cuts him off firmly, and Louis' heart catches at the sudden fierceness in his eyes. "He left a family of six, Lou. It's not the same thing. Don't you dare think it is."  
  
Louis' chest fills with so much emotion then that a new wave of fresh tears start forming. It hits him - Harry is actually on his side, and not just out of loyalty or because he has to be.  
  
Harry pulls his jumper down past his fingers and wipes at Louis' face before pulling him into a hug. Louis falls into it, and doesn't really understand how he can be this sad and yet content at the same time.  
  
Harry pulls back first, then slots their fingers together, and Louis just loves him so, so much.  
  
//  
  
Harry drives them back to his house, which, yeah, Louis figured that much. He still doesn't understand where he's meant to sleep though with all these people now in Harry's house, so when Harry pushes him upstairs and pulls an empty overnight bag onto the bed, Louis is suddenly very confused.  
  
"Erm," Harry hesitates a minute, checking his watch and then hauling his larger unpacked suitcase off the floor and onto the bed next to the smaller bag. "Just pack me a few things, would you? Something to sleep in and something to wear tomorrow?"  
  
"Going somewhere, then?" Louis laughs.  
  
Harry smiles at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Just do it, babe? I'll be right back."  
  
Louis bites his lip and starts going through Harry's clothes, pulling a few things out he thinks he'll like. He doesn't really know what to pack for him to sleep in, since he's never met a person more adverse to pajamas in his life. So he just throws some extra briefs in and a white tshirt even though he'll probably wind up wearing it instead of Harry.  
  
Just as he's about to zip the bag up, Harry returns and tells him to hold up. Louis steps back and watches Harry rummage around in a hidden compartment of his suitcase. He pulls a box of condoms out and what looks like a new bottle of lube, tossing both items into the bag and zipping it up.  
  
Louis' eyebrows raise, "So, we're going home then?"  
  
Harry looks at him funny, small quirk to his lips. "We are home, babe."  
  
Louis opens his mouth to retort, but then stops himself. Yes, technically Harry's right. They are home. But his drafty flat in Essex has never called his name quite like it's doing now. And Louis knows that it's because that flat has become his and Harry's place, their hideaway, their bubble. He thinks if Harry told him they were actually going to make the four hour drive there tonight, he'd go without a fuss.  
  
"Right," Louis nods. "Well, what's this all about then?"  
  
Harry smiles and suddenly he's holding up a pair of keys. One big, like it belongs to a car, and the other small.  
  
"I, um, I talked to Robin. And, you know, he's had the bungalow for years now. We went that one summer, remember? Right before you started sixth form and-"  
  
"Harry," Louis says lightly, a small smile playing on his lips, heart thumping in his chest.  
  
Harry clears his throat, laughing a little, "Sorry. Um, so yeah, I was wondering if you'd like to maybe go there. Tonight. With me. You know, I don't want you to have to stay at home with him if you don't want to be there. And Robin said we can stay for as many nights as we want. Oh, and he's letting me take his car and we can be back in time tomorrow for your birthd-"  
  
Louis steps forward to kiss him soundly, cutting him off.  
  
"Thank you," he breathes against his mouth, and that's all Harry needs to hear.  
  
000

They don't make it ten minutes inside the bungalow before Louis' got Harry flat on his back in a ridiculous king-sized bed. The entire ride up to the house Louis could feel the anxiety rippling underneath his skin. Harry hadn't pressured him to talk about what happened back at his house, or about what might happen next, but it didn't stop Louis from thinking about it.  
  
As soon as Harry dropped their bags on the bedroom floor, he began massaging the tension out of Louis' shoulders, kissing him sweetly on the neck. Soft, comforting. But that's not really what Louis wants right now.  
  
Harry goes easily when Louis turns around and strips him of his shirt before pushing him down on the mattress. Louis notes the appreciative groan that leaves his throat when Louis crawls over him and tugs roughly on the opening of his jeans.  
  
"Yeah," Harry hisses, lifting his hips frantically so Louis can pull them all the way off, underwear included.  
  
Harry's breathing heavily, now stark naked while Louis is still completely clothed and hovering over him. Louis takes in Harry's body, every inch of him, all laid out and all for him.  
  
"Fuck."  
  
Harry flushes and runs his hand over his own chest and stomach, but carefully skips over his hardening cock.  
  
Louis edges off the bed and stands up, pulling Harry by the underside of his knees until his legs are on either side of Louis'. Harry sits up and while Louis peels his shirt off, Harry's hands go to the button on his trousers, opening them up deliberately slow.  
  
He kisses across Louis' sternum.  
  
"You know the good thing about this place?" he mutters, pushing the trousers down his hips.  
  
Louis' eyelids flutter. "What's that?"  
  
Harry grins wolfishly and lies back flat on the bed. "I can be as loud as I want."  
  
Louis makes some sort of noise he's too turned on to be embarrassed about and crawls back over Harry's body, pushing him down into the bed and kissing him deep and frantic.  
  
He tries to pace himself so he can draw this out, but his senses are on overdrive.  
  
And sex, you know, it's always been a thing that Louis likes to do. But he's never  _craved_ it the way he does with Harry. It's overwhelming, sometimes, how much he always seems to want him.  
  
While Harry keeps their tongues sliding together, Louis reaches down between their stomachs to get a hand around Harry's cock. Harry stops him as soon as he gets there.  
  
"I want," Harry pants. "I want you to-" Harry brings his legs up and back against himself and cages Louis in.  
  
Louis catches on quickly. "Yeah. Yeah. Where's the stuff?"  
  
"In my bag. S'on the floor."  
  
Louis retrieves it quickly, fingers shaking a little. It's not unusual for him to be keyed up when he and Harry have sex, but this feels different. Something about knowing that they're the only people around for miles does something to him. Knowing they can literally do whatever they want, wherever they want, however loud they please makes Louis feel...different.  
  
When Harry grabs for the bottle of lube in Louis' hands, Louis pulls it back.  
  
"Can I? I mean- Do you think I could do it, maybe?"  
  
Harry's breath hitches then and he bites his lip so hard Louis can see white. Harry usually preps himself. Louis doesn't particularly know why. It's just always been that way.  
  
"It's okay if you don't-"  
  
"No. Fuck, please. Yes."  
  
Louis' heart picks up, and he smiles even though his nerves are making his fingers shake.  
  
Harry sits up a little. "How do you want me?"  
  
Louis suddenly has a flashback to their first time, when Harry asked him that same question and he freaked out a little, needed Harry to tell him what to do.  
  
"Like that. I want to see your face."  
  
He's more confident now. He likes that. Being in control comes naturally to Louis. It always has. But this is still Harry's domain. It's not that he's had a lot of experience (they got that awkward conversation out of the way weeks ago), but sex with a boy is like a whole new world and Harry has a decent head start on him.  
  
Harry smiles softly up at him. They've both become a little less frantic now, but Louis' still buzzing, in that weird place between wanting to get off and wanting to slow down time so he can just experience this. He shuffles up the bed until he's between Harry's parted thighs. He coats his fingers like he's seen Harry do a dozen times before, then pushes Harry's left thigh back until he can clearly see where he's supposed to touch, and brings his wet fingers down against him. He moves them slowly at first, barely at all, eyes flicking to Harry's every few seconds in case he does something wrong. But Harry's just sort of staring at him dazedly, mouth slack. So Louis applies more pressure with the tip of his middle finger and he thinks Harry almost whimpers.  
  
Louis feels a surge of confidence then, and begins rubbing tight circles against Harry's entrance, feeling him tense and relax. And then he does that whimpering moan thing again, a noise he definitely doesn't make when he does this to himself (Louis would remember).  
  
"That's good. Just keep doing that for a minute, yeah."  
  
Louis bites his lip and nods. He can't explain it, but he secretly loves when Harry teaches him things. Growing up, it was always the other way around. It was always Louis instructing Harry, even when Louis clearly had no idea what he was talking about. But Harry telling him what to do here doesn't make him feel inept at all, and he can't explain it. Harry is always so responsive, that when Louis gets something right all on his own, he has a way of making Louis feel like the most important person in his world. So Louis sort of has this burning need to learn everything that he likes.  
  
Harry's hand goes to his cock, stroking slowly. His eyes never leave Louis' face. Louis bites his lip in concentration and when he feels Harry relax around his fingers a little more on every drag, he dares to press his index in. They have sex frequently enough that Harry doesn't take as much prep as he did at first, so Louis' finger is able to slide in pretty easily. He works his way up to two within minutes and he's really surprised at how nice it feels. Obviously, he loves the way Harry feels around his cock, but he feels good around his fingers, too. He's smooth and tight, almost unyielding. And like, Louis' pretty well-versed with Harry's body by now, but somehow when he's not distracted by his own impending orgasm, he's able to appreciate it in a different way.  
  
Harry's making a choked off noise on every slide of Louis' fingers. Louis keeps a steady pace in and out, and then experiments with curling his fingers.  
  
"There," Harry gasps, hips bucking a little and hand stuttering on his cock.  
  
Louis repeats the path of his fingers, curling them slightly until he feels the firm rounded shape from before. Harry keens brilliantly when he touches it, and yeah, okay, Louis is definitely going to do this again in the future.  
  
"Do you want to come like this?" Louis rasps, his fingers moving fast and hard now.  
  
Harry groans and almost laughs a little deliriously, like he desperately wants to say yes, but won't. His hand slows down on his cock.  
  
"No. No, I want you in me. Please."  
  
Louis' cock twitches with interst. He hadn't realized how hard he was until just now. He keeps his fingers moving as he tears a condom open and rolls it on. Harry pulls his legs back and almost as soon as Louis' fingers are out of him, his cock is pushing in.  
  
They're both so wound up that Louis doesn't have to bother going slow, snapping his hips at a bruising pace almost immediately.  
  
Harry wasn't lying when he said he could be as loud as he wanted. This whole thing feels surreal. Daylight is still streaming through the windows and Harry's making filthy, loud noises and the headboard is steadily hitting the wall and Louis' never felt this out of control before. He just wants to fuck Harry until he loses his voice, until he can't move. And so he digs his slick fingers into the underside of Harry's thighs and doesn't stop.  
  
//  
  
"Thank you. For bringing me here."  
  
Louis says it into the silent room sometime later when they've both finally come down. He doesn't know if he really wants to talk about it, if he's ready to, but he feels the need to at least thank Harry again, and not just with what's probably the best sex they've ever had. He has no idea how much it means to Louis that he did this for him.  
  
He's sure Harry's fallen asleep, but then he feels the palm of his hand move across his chest.  
  
"It's nothing, babe."  
  
Louis wriggles down until they're lying face to face. "It is. You got me out of there. You're the only one that..." He swallows over the growing lump in his throat.  
  
Harry reaches a hand out to trace the line of his cheek bone. "I was there, Lou," he says, "I remember when he left. I remember what it did to you. It was hard to watch you go through that when there was nothing I could do to help."  
  
"You did, though," Louis murmurs. Because, yeah, maybe when Harry was fifteen he couldn't whisk him away to a beautiful vacation house in the middle of nowhere, but he was  _there_. He was the only one that knew about the chaos going on with Louis' family. And while Liam, Niall, and Zayn all know that his step-father isn't around anymore, Harry is still the only one that  _knows_. Harry's always the one - the one that's been there for every hard thing.  
  
"Hey, why are you crying?" Harry whispers, trying to pull Louis' face toward him.  
  
"It's just. I had you, you know?" Louis sniffs, "I still have you."  
  
"Yeah..." Harry says, still uncomprehending.  
  
"But you didn't have me. And i'm sorry."  
  
Harry looks stunned for a moment. But when Louis opens his mouth to speak again, he drives forward and pulls them chest to chest and hugs him so tightly there's not an inch of space between them.  
  
"No more apologising, okay? Louis, I don't care about any of that stuff now. This is so much more important."  
  
Louis starts to protest but Harry pulls back then just enough to level their faces. "Can you just do something for me?"  
  
Louis pauses a beat, but eventually nods.  
  
"Just. Here, now? That's all that matters." Harry keeps their eyes locked, doesn't let Louis look away.  
  
"Here, now," Louis repeats, like he's tasting the words for the first time.  
  
And while Harry curls back up on that spot right under his chin, Louis marvels at the fact that the boy he loves has never pushed him to keep apologising, has never harped on their past or brought it up again to make Louis feel bad. Not once. Not even when Louis probably deserved it. He doesn't understand how someone like Harry exists. And for someone like him. He doesnt understand why he gets a Harry. Why he got so lucky.  
  
"I just hate that we lost those two years," he says, because he can't help it.  
  
Harry traces along his ribs like he's mapping him out. "We were going to be separated for those two years anyway, Lou. Who knows, maybe more than that."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, you were graduating and going off to uni."  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"So if we had gotten together then - I mean, if things had worked out that way, you still would have had to leave."  
  
"I-" Louis had never really thought of it that way, but still. "Yeah, but. We still would have been friends. We still would have been together. You never would have gotten hurt..."  
  
Harry shrugs, "Maybe. But then I also probably wouldn't have worked as hard as I did. I probably wouldn't have even wound up at Essex with you. Or playing football at all. I think- I think things worked out the way they were supposed to."  
  
Louis lets the words sink in. "Maybe," he assents, "But i'll never be okay with what I did to you."  
  
Harry lifts up on his elbow then and looks at Louis directly. "Louis, you know I don't look back at that time and wish I could change it?"  
  
Now it's Louis' turn to look stunned.  
  
"How?" He shakes his head disbelievingly. Because he always thought that as much as he wished he could go back and change what happened two years ago, Harry would've wanted it ten times as badly.  
  
"I mean, I don't know. Because without it I don't know if i'd be where I am right now?" Louis stays silent, eyeing him thoughtfully. "And I quite like where I am. Not just with you, but with myself too. That's why I wouldn't change anything. If we would've been easy, Louis, I don't know where we'd be right now honestly. But, like, you're the thing i'm most sure about now. You know?"  
  
Louis mouth parts, and he can't take his eyes off of Harry.  
  
"But I don't know if I would have known that if we hadn't gone through all this crap." Louis suddenly registers that he's not just talking about two years ago anymore, but now as well, everything up to two months ago. "I wouldn't want to do it again, but- i'm not entirely sorry it happened. I mean. Sorry, m'not explaining it right."  
  
"No," Louis breathes, a little taken aback and awed. "No, I get it. Completely."  
  
He does, weirdly enough. He's just never really thought about it like that. He takes for granted that he and Harry would have ended up happily together no matter how they got there. But he's never thought about how he appreciates it so much more because of how hard they had to fight for it. But he does.  
  
Looking back, what he felt for Harry growing up ghosts in comparison to what he feels now. What he feels now is so much more intense and permanent and layered. And instead of wondering what else he might be missing out there, he just feels really lucky that Harry is his and no one else's, that he knows for sure that he's never going to want anything else as much as he wants this.  
  
Harry's voice breaks him out of his head. "I still get scared though, sometimes."  
  
"Scared of what?"  
  
Harry shrugs, "That if I let myself get too happy, if things get too good, that something will happen to ruin it."  
  
Louis frowns, "I think we've pretty much lived through the worst of the worst, though, haven't we?" He tries for a bit of humor, just to see a hint of a smile from Harry.  
  
"Don't jinx us." Harry eyes flit down to the mattress.  
  
"Hey." He waits for Harry's eyes to come back to his before continuing. "I don't think there's anything that could happen now that would ever keep me from you."  
  
Harry does smile then.  
  
"I jump, you jump, right?"  
  
"Still not how it goes," Harry laughs, leaning down to kiss him once, "But- yeah."  
  
Harry cuddles back into him, and Louis is content to let the conversation end here, but he knows he won't sleep with this thought still in his head.  
  
"Is that something you're worried about - Mark?" he asks.  
  
"I don't think I am," Harry says slowly, and then pauses for a beat. "I mean, are you? Are you, like, afraid of what he'll think? About you and me? I don't have to come back with you if you-"  
  
" _No_ ," Louis says vehemently, and then softens when he feels Harry flinch. He moves his hand from Harry's back to his hair, carding his fingers through it. He wants Harry to know that he would never choose to hide their relationship from anyone now, least of all his step-father.  
  
"No, H," he says again, softer this time, "I don't care what he thinks."  
  
Harry eyes him thoughtfully for a few seconds before he gives a soft nod. "Okay."  
  
"Will you come back with me?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Good. 'Cause I need someone on my side."  
  
Harry looks amused then. "Good thing i'm on your team them, yeah? Maybe i'll put your football uniform on before we go, just so there's no confusion."  
  
It's obviously a joke, but instead of laughing, Louis' breath hitches a little.  
  
Harry doesn't miss it and reaches up to tap Louis' face playfully. "Kinky."  
  
Louis grabs his hand and rolls them until he's got Harry pinned beneath him, his wrists held above his head. Harry tilts his jaw up in mock defiance and Louis swoops down to bite at the front of his throat.  
  
"You're lucky I didn't pack it," he growls, "'Cause if I did you wouldn't be allowed to take it off."  
  
Harry whines low in his throat, and Louis can feel the younger boy's cock twitch against his naked hip.  
  
He spends the next half hour taking Harry apart again, and while he does it, he idly wonders if they can break their single-night shag record.  
  
Louis' already two for four, and it's still early.  
  
//  
  
"I really like it here," Louis murmurs into Harry's freshly washed skin. They're in the living room now after stopping to shower and eat some of the food that Harry's mum sent up with them. Harry tried to figure the heat out, but it's still a little too cold in the house. So they take the duvet from the bed and wrap themselves up in it on the rug by the fireplace.  
  
"I do, too," Harry says. "I'm glad Robin kept it."  
  
"He was going to get rid of it?"  
  
Harry turns around so that they're lying face to face. "Yeah. He was thinking about selling it last year, you know, to help me pay for uni and all that."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Harry nods, "He didn't wind up having to, though, you know. So it all worked out."  
  
"Yeah," Louis murmurs. "I'm glad."  
  
Even though Louis' been here before, now that he has a chance to properly take it in, the bungalow seems like a brand new place. It's so quiet, clean, but looks lived in enough that Louis can tell Harry's family spends a decent amount of time here. From where he's laying he can see out the backdoor that's clear as a window. As dusk settles in, he can just barely make out the large field that stretches for miles. It's covered in fresh snow, and it looks like more is starting to fall. Louis breathes. He's glad Harry brought him here.  
  
He's glad Harry's here.  
  
//  
  
The next morning, Harry wakes him up with a blowjob.  
  
"Was'going on?" Louis mumbles, half-asleep and more than half-hard.  
  
Harry comes up for air long enough to say "birthday sex" before taking Louis back down.  
  
000  
  
Going home isn't easy, but Harry convinces him that they can't miss his birthday.  
  
Not Christmas Eve, but  _his_  birthday, like it was much more important.  
  
It made Louis smile (and relent). Harry had already taken him out to dinner before they left Essex, knowing they probably wouldn't get a real chance to after coming to Holmes Chapel, but he still seems to think a huge celebration is in order. And that makes Louis feel good, secretly. It's been a while since anyone's actively tried to make the day just about him in a while. His family had always tried, but it's hard to share your birthday with a big holiday and still have it be about you. He'd grown okay with it over the years, still finding ways to celebrate around the hustle and bustle of Christmas. But since his dad left and he went off to school, it's been a relatively quiet occasion.  
  
Harry doesn't try to give him a big pep talk, or tell him what he should and shouldn't do when he sees Mark again. He doesn't know any better than Louis does how to handle this, and Louis appreciates the honesty in that. Harry simply holds his hand and says, "Just say the word."  
  
And Louis understands exactly what he means.  _Just say the word and i'm there. Just say the word and i'll do whatever you need me to do. I'll pull you out - no matter how bad things get, i'll always be there to pull you out._  
  
Louis has to sit in the car for a few minutes when they get to his house. Just seeing Mark's car there in the driveway makes his stomach turn. But with Harry's silent encouragement, they make it inside. The only person inside the house is Jay, much to Louis' relief. And her eyes grow watery when she sees him and Harry standing in the mouth of the kitchen.  
  
She hugs him tightly and tells him happy birthday.  
  
He bites back the words 'I wish it was' and hugs her back.  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
Jay blows a deep breath out. "He's out back with the girls."  
  
"Mum, i'm not trying to like, ruin Christmas, but I don't know if I can-"  
  
"No, you're right. And you were right yesterday. It was too soon. I should have told him no."  
  
"No, mum, it's okay."  
  
She shakes her head. "No, it isn't. I shouldn't have sprung that on you."  
  
He can't really argue with her on that one, so he doesn't say anything.  
  
"He's leaving tomorrow," she continues. "I asked him to."  
  
"Mum, you didn't have to-"  
  
"It wasn't just for you," she says, reaching up to grip his shoulders. "I told him that, if they want, the girls can see him on weekends. But as far as him coming back here, that's. That's not going to happen."  
  
He wishes he felt more relieved by that, but he doesn't. He nods and goes to stand by the window that overlooks the backyard. He doesn't have to turn and look to know that the person to come and stand beside him is Harry.  
  
He watches Mark, his dad - fuck, he doesn't even know what to call him in his own head anymore - out there with his sisters, helping them roll snow so they can build a snowman. Like he's every other father on the block. Like he's every father that's been there every Christmas and every birthday and every day.  
  
Mark is the only father Louis' ever known. But he left when Louis was almost eighteen. He still raised him. But Phoebe, Daisy, Fliss, and even Lottie - their loss was different than his. And he's not sure they even understand that yet.  
  
Phoebe and Daisy are laughing and throwing snow into the air and Louis wonders if they even remember who he is.  
  
And he's suddenly so, so angry he can't see straight.  
  
"Lou. Louis, wait, come back."  
  
He hears Harry, he does. But if he doesn't start yelling, he'll start crying and - fuck.  
  
Harry is hot on his heels as Louis swings the back door open angrily. Mark's head snaps up and suddenly their eyes are locked. And Louis wants to say so much. He wants to say everything and yet nothing to this man he hasn't seen in almost three years. Mark's cheeks are pink from the cold, and his eyes are bright and he looks so  _happy_. And Louis just wants to take it away from him so badly - take it away just like he took everything when he left.  
  
But Lottie is looking at him with pleading eyes, and Fliss is biting her lip nervously. And the twins are smiling and bolting straight for him as soon as they see he's walked outside.  
  
"Louis!" They squeal with delight, like every little girl on Christmas Eve should be. He picks Phoebe up out of the snow and he can see Daisy launch herself at Harry out of the corner of his eye (she's taken a liking to him).  
  
"Happy Birthday!" They both say and Louis forces himself to smile for them.  
  
"Where were you last night?" Daisy asks from Harry's arms. "We missed you."  
  
"He was helping Santa get the rest of your presents in order," Harry lies smoothly, and Louis shoots him a grateful look.  
  
"Okay, then," Phoebe says, "I want to play now. Come on Daisy. Come on Lou. Come on Harry."  
  
Louis lets her down and watches them both take off in their little pink wellies. In the meantime, Mark has made his way up to the porch.  
  
"Hey, Lou." He tries to smile a bit, but when Louis doesn't answer, he snaps his mouth shut. Louis can tell he's nervous.  
  
"Hello, Harry," he smiles politely, tipping his head in Harry's direction, and Louis feels Harry move a little closer to him, like a guard dog.  
  
"Hello," he answers.  
  
Louis can see his step-father eyeing the almost non-existant space between his and Harry's bodies, a perplexed look on his face. Louis doesn't even think twice about it when he reaches out and takes Harry's hand in his, watching Mark's eyes carefully as he does. They widen a bit before going back to normal. It's so subtle Louis almost misses it. Mark clears his throat deliberately.  
  
"I'm sorry I missed you last night."  
  
Harry squeezes his fingers ( _i'm right here_ ).  
  
"Happy Birthday, Lou," he says eventually.  
  
Louis gives him a quiet, forced "thanks".  
  
"So, um, how have you been?" As if he can't help it, his eyes flit back down to his and Harry's interlocked hands. But only for a second. "How's um, how's uni? Your mum told me you're captain of your football team? That's really great."  
  
Something breaks in Louis' brain. "Yeah," he intones, "Would have told you myself. But I guess your phone was broken."  
  
A hint of hurt, guilt - Louis doesn't know or care - shines in Mark's eyes, and that's when Louis knows that his dad understands.  
  
No hatchets are being buried today.  
  
//

It's easier to get through the rest of the day after that, now that he and Mark have a mutual understanding that Louis isn't going to pretend to play the role of the merciful son in the 'Reunited Tomlinson Family Christmas Special'.  
  
They sort of just stay out of each other's way. Louis plays with his sisters, hugs them when they bring out a giant birthday cake covered in all different colors of frosting (Daisy and Phoebe were in charge of decorating), and has a nice dinner with his family and his boyfriend.  
  
That's the other thing he refuses to pretend about. He holds Harry's hand on top of the table, and doesn't hesitate to kiss him in thanks when he receives his birthday gift from him (tickets to the 2013 Football League Cup Final in February). And he absolutely does not care what Mark thinks about any of it.  
  
He's thankful that Harry is here, in general and especially. Since Louis' not sure he would've been able to continue holding his tongue otherwise.  
  
Harry stays as long as he possibly can before his own family starts calling him home. Gemma's just arrived, apparently.

Louis walks him to his car.  
  
"You can stay with me tonight," Harry says, teeth chattering a little because of the cold. "Or we can go back to the bungalow. Whatever you want."  
  
Louis picks imaginary lint off of Harry's jumper and tells him that he should really be here when his sisters wake up tomorrow morning, and that Harry should be with his family on Christmas Eve too.  
  
"Okay," Harry concedes reluctantly. "But. Just. Call me? If anything happens."  
  
"I will," he says, and kisses Harry goodbye, letting him turn away to get in his car.  
  
" _I love you_ ," he calls, a little fiercely, like it's something he absolutely needs Harry to know before he drives away. Harry swings back around, hand on the open car door.  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
It's like they're saying it for the first time or something, even though it's definitely not the first time, not even close.  
  
Harry pulls him back into a tight hug and with Louis' mouth buried somewhere in his curls, he adds "so, so fucking much."  
  
//  
  
Louis does his best to spend the majority of Christmas Day with his mum and sisters, but caves around noon when Mark suggests they all go ice skating. Because just - no. So he calls Harry and sheepishly asks if it's okay for him to maybe come over.  
  
"Is that Louis?" he hears someone call his name in the background over the phone, he's not sure who. "Tell him to get his arse over here. I haven't seen his ugly mug in years."  
  
That'd be Gemma, then.  
  
Louis laughs and says he'll be right over then, and Harry tells him he'll put the tea on.  
  
//  
  
He and Harry wind up slipping off into the the smaller, abandoned second den towards the back of the house after eating way too much of Anne's Christmas cooking and needing a place to crash.  
  
"I think. I'm in a food coma." Louis moans.  
  
Harry giggles lazily where he's laying partially on top of Louis. The couch is just big enough to fit them both if Harry overlaps him a little, which is usually how they sleep anyway, now that he thinks about it.  
  
Louis rubs Harry's back mindlessly, his skin warming under his touch. He thinks he hears Harry start to breathe deep and even, signaling that he's about to fall asleep when he suddenly remembers. He jolts Harry awake.  
  
"Ugh, wha'is it?"  
  
"I almost forgot. I have your Christmas present."  
  
Harry looks up at him all sleepy-eyed, but he's smiling. "Oh, yeah. I have yours too. It's in my room though. I'll go get it."  
  
While Harry goes upstairs, Louis jogs out to his car and grabs the small box from the floor under the driver's seat, quickly running back inside so he doesn't freeze to death. Harry's already back on the couch when he gets back to the den.  
  
"You first," Harry says, placing his own wrapped present behind him on the sofa.  
  
"Okay." Louis sits down opposite him and hands him the small box wrapped in Christmas paper that has little gnomes all over it and 'To: Hazza xx' scribbled over the top of it in biro marker.  
  
Harry's eyes flick up to his and he smiles as he opens it. There, nestled in some tissue paper are two tickets, and beneath them, a little booklet with  _The Definitive Guide To Your First Leeds Festival!_  printed on the front.  
  
Harry's eyes go wide and he's beaming when he looks up at Louis.  
  
"Lou..."  
  
"It's not for like, seven months, but. Yeah. I got the tickets a few weeks ago. I know you always wanted to go, and- And I know we always talked about going, so-"  
  
Harry startles him when he leans forward suddenly to press their lips together firmly, his hand coming up to rest on Louis' face.  
  
"These are fantastic," he smiles against Louis' mouth. "Thank you  _so_  much. We're going to camp and everything?"  
  
Louis nods, "Yep. Three whole days of sleeping on the ground and beer and greasy food. Just like you've always wanted."  
  
Harry is beaming softly at him. "I can't wait."  
  
Louis grins back at him and lets Harry kiss him once more before he separates them.  
  
"Okay," he pries the box from Harry's fingers and places it on the side table, "My turn now."  
  
Harry smiles and goes a little red then, pulling Louis' gift from behind his back.  
  
"Um, this was actually your birthday present," Harry admits.  
  
Louis brows furrow, "But... the tickets?"  
  
"They were your Christmas present. I, um, switched at the last minute, because I wanted to give you this when it was just you and me, so. Yeah. Here."  
  
"Oh, kinky, Hazza."  
  
Harry laughs while Louis takes the wrapping paper off, "No. No it's nothing like that. It's..."  
  
When Louis opens the box, he finds another box inside. A shoebox. He glances briefly at Harry, but he's watching Louis' hands. So Louis pulls the lid off the box and inside there's a stack of notebook paper. It only takes Louis a second once he's picked the first one up and seen the writing on it to know what these are. His mouth drops open a little.  
  
"You know how, on the first day of school every year, you'd write me those notes?"  
  
Of course he remembers. He's the one that started it when he saw how nervous Harry had been when he was eleven and about to start Year 7. Louis, of course, being the wiser and more experienced of the two, had secretly stuffed the note in Harry's backpack the night before fall term. It was stupid really - just little chicken scratch notes that Louis compiled on a piece of wide rule notebook paper, notes that detailed things like: which teachers were the hardest markers in that year, which classes Harry could get away with sleeping in, which teachers gave a lot of pop quizzes, and most importantly, where his old desk was in each class so Harry could sit in it (he'd marked his initials on the underside of every one so Harry was always sure to find it). He'd also write him a stupid little note at the end of each one. He doesn't even remember what most of them said.  
  
When Harry had come home almost beaming that first day after school, they both knew why, but they never talked about it. It simply became an unspoken tradition after that. Even when Harry was clearly past his first-day jitters phase, Louis still sat down the night before the start of each fall term and wrote out everything he could remember about the year Harry was about to start. Sometimes the information probably wasn't even relevant anymore, but Louis wrote them out every year anyway and stuffed them in Harry's backpack when he pretended he wasn't paying attention.  
  
Louis' a little awestruck. "You kept them?"  
  
Harry shrugs. "Well, yeah. I mean. Of course I did."  
  
Louis' eyes flit to his.  
  
"And I know you might be thinking it's sort of weird that i'm giving you notes that you wrote back to you, but," Louis shakes his head, but Harry keeps going, "Um, I sort of wrote you back?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Harry reaches out to take Louis' hand and prompts him to flip the page over. The opposite side is filled with notes in a different color pen and handwriting. He picks a few of the other papers up and turns them all over. Each one has a letter from Harry to him on them. And they're all in different colored pens, and the handwriting gets a bit more clean with each one. Harry wrote him back each year.  
  
Louis feels his chest expand a little.  
  
"How come you never showed me these?"  
  
Harry shrugs again. "I'm showing you now. You can read them if you want. But, maybe when i'm not around? Some of them are sort of embarrassing."  
  
"Oh, then I am  _definitely_  reading them when you're around. Through a megaphone. So Niall, Li and Zayn can hear too. And them i'm going to make- Hey, what are you doing?"  
  
Harry has snatched the notes out of Louis' hands and put them back in the box, setting it on the table with the Leeds tickets, before pushing Louis onto his back and crawling over him.  
  
"Snogging you. It's the only certifiable way to shut you up."  
  
"Oi!" Louis starts, but Harry's tongue is pushing into his mouth then and Louis goes pliant underneath him.  
  
"S'not the only way," he says against Harry's mouth.  
  
Harry detaches their lips, raises an eyebrow and Louis takes it as a green light to push his hand down between Harry's legs and squeeze him gently.  
  
Harry groans and takes Louis by the wrist and pulls his hand back up to his chest, caging it there.  
  
"If Phillip wanders in here, the sight of you with your hand around my cock might scar him for life."  
  
Louis licks his lips, "Wasn't really talking about my hand, sweetheart."  
  
Harry closes his eyes and drops his head to Louis' chest.  
  
" _Definitely_  scarred for life, then."  
  
Louis laughs but lets Harry settle between the back of the couch and curl up beneath his chin.  
  
"We wouldn't have lasted a week," Harry suddenly laughs.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
Harry doesn't raise his head, "If we'dve been together in college, you would have gotten us into so much trouble we would've had to break up after a week."  
  
Louis scoffs, "Are you quite finished? I am  _stealth_."  
  
Harry snorts. "And I'm not?"  
  
Louis pretends to think about it. "Hmm. Up for debate."  
  
"I'm stealthy," Harry argues, "Remember when I..." He whispers the rest against Louis' ear. Something about the back of Liam's truck a few weeks ago and Louis goes red in the face.  
  
"You know this really isn't helping me keep my hands to myself, babe."  
  
Harry chuckles low in his ear and pulls back to look at him fondly. "Merry Christmas, Lou."  
  
Louis smiles, "Merry Christmas, Hazza."  
  
Harry settles back against his chest and Louis' hands automatically curl into his hair.  
  
"Thank you," he breathes against the crown of his head, and Harry's fingers simply flex against his chest in silent recognition. He's fast asleep a minute later.  
  
Louis continues to scratch lightly through Harry's curls, just thinking. He doesn't notice that Anne has appeared in the entryway until she clears her throat gently. His eyes snap to hers. His fingers still in Harry's hair but Anne's got a warm smile on her face.  
  
"He's finally asleep?"  
  
"Yeah," Louis whispers.  
  
"About time. Don't think he slept a wink last night."  
  
Louis' fingers start moving in Harry's hair again, thumb tracing that spot right behind his ear that always relaxes him. Not that it matters since he's already out for the count.  
  
"I hate to interrupt," she continues softly, "but can I steal you for a moment?"  
  
Louis nods and tries to sit up as delicately as he can without waking Harry up. Harry grumbles as Louis slips out from underneath him and sets the pillow he was using under Harry's head.  
  
"Wher'you going?" Harry murmurs, barely audible.  
  
Louis kisses the side of his head. "I'll be right back. Promise."  
  
He's not even sure if Harry's heard him, and thinks he might already be fast asleep again.  
  
Anne just watches on silently as Louis covers Harry with the quilt from the back of the couch before following her out. She leads him to a small foyer near the front of the house, away from the rest of Harry's family still convened in the living room watching a film.  
  
It's not until they're in there that Louis realizes she's been holding something in her hand the entire time.  
  
"I found this in some of Harry's old things a few weeks ago."  
  
Louis watches Anne turn over a slightly weathered photograph and hand it to him.  
  
The neon time-stamp on the bottom reads 31/08/2007. He was fifteen then, Harry thirteen. It's a photo of just them, both decked out in their football kits. If he remembers correctly, it was taken after one of Harry's first games as a member of the team. They're grinning at the camera, arms around each others' necks and their heads pushed together. Louis' a little bit taller than Harry, whose hair looks just as untamed as it does now.  
  
He remembers when they were that age that they were always moving - never had the time of day to stop and take a picture, even though his mother would always beg him to slow down and let her remember.  
  
Most of the photos that exist of him as a teenager are exactly like this one - worn out, and likely from a disposable camera.  
  
He suddenly wishes he would have let his mum take more.  
  
Anne clears her throat and Louis' eyes shoot up from the photograph. He blushes a little.  
  
She's got a small, knowing smile on her lips and Louis thinks she looks rather lovely like that.  
  
"Thank you," he breathes.  
  
She smiles wider then, pulling him into a quick hug. "Thank you for being here."  
  
"I should be thanking you for that, actually," He tries to laugh lightly, but it comes out forced and tinged with sadness. She frowns gently and keeps her hands on his shoulders.  
  
"I don't know what i'd do without him," Louis admits to her. "He does so much for me and I just. I don't know."  
  
"Louis," her mouth quirks gently, "You make him so happy. I've never seen him happier than when he's with you, before and now. But now especially. If he stays this way the rest of his life I can die a happy woman," she laughs.  
  
He feels like crying then, thinking about how it went so wrong a few months ago, how close he came to completely screwing everything up and losing Harry for good.  
  
"I'm just. So sorry, about what happened..." he starts.

"Hey, none of that," she cuts him off, "Everything turned out alright, didn't it?"  
  
Louis nods, "Yeah. But," he looks at her seriously, "Even if it hadn't. I still would've-"  
  
"I know," she says, cupping his face briefly and running the pad of her thumb along his cheek. "I know you would've."  
  
She closes his fingers around the photo of him and Harry, and Louis feels the last piece snap into place.  
  
(Before they leave to go back to Essex, Louis asks Jay to take a picture of him and Harry on her nice camera. And she's so excited that she runs to grab it before he changes his mind.)  
  
000  
  
Once Mark leaves, Louis can breathe again. The last few days that he and Harry spend in Holmes Chapel are actually amazing. Lottie lets him sleep in his old room (though he sneaks over to Harry's a few nights), Harry helps Jay cook, Louis helps Anne take their Christmas tree down, Gemma takes the Mickey out of them the entire time, Daisy sticks to Harry like glue and everything is just really, really good. He almost doesn't want to leave.  
  
But they do on the 30th when Zayn calls and reminds him about Brewer's huge New Years party the next night, and he and Harry decide they both still really want to go.  
  
Louis gets huffy when Harry falls asleep for the first three hours of their drive back to school. But he more than makes up for it when he spends the last half hour giving Louis his apology in the form of road head.  
  
000  
  
Brewer's is packed by the time they get there. Like, beyond packed. Louis doesn't recognize half the people there. He, Harry and the boys stick close together through the night. Niall gets pissed, as expected. The rest of them just sort of get comfortably buzzed.  
  
About five minutes to midnight, Louis sees Brewer's older brother Jake flick the tv on in the corner and turns it to one of those New Year's countdown specials. Louis' a little buzzed and loose-limbed and busy dancing with his friends, but he doesn't miss Jake grabbing another boy's hand after he flicks the tv to mute. They kiss briefly and sway close together to the bass.  
  
Louis watches them for a minute and then turns back to Harry, sees him smiling widely at something Zayn's just said, all white teeth in a dark room.  
  
He doesn't realize how much time has passed until people start counting down. He doesn't join in, because looking at Harry right now - the only thought racing through his brain is  _'fuck it'_.  
  
He grips Harry's shoulders and turns him so they're standing face to face, and his eyes flicker back and forth between Harry's eyes and mouth, his bottom lip in his teeth.  
  
5  
  
4  
  
"Is this okay?" Louis asks, and for a second Harry looks like he's not sure what he's asking. But then recognition flashes over his glassy eyes.  
  
3  
  
2  
  
Harry doesn't speak, just curls his fingers into the front of Louis' jumper.  
  
1  
  
Louis leans in, presses his mouth to Harry's.  
  
And when he pulls back, he's not listening for gasps or looking for eyes wide with shock. The clench in his stomach isn't from fear of being judged.  
  
It's just Harry. Everything is just Harry.  
  
"Happy New Year."  
  
//  
  
Liam is the most sober of them by the time they leave the party, so he drives them back to the school. Zayn takes the front, while Louis, Harry and Niall sit in the back. Louis keeps having the push Niall toward the window every time he migrates over to try and pass out on Louis' shoulder. Harry is tucked in on his right, knees up and laid over the tops of Louis' thighs (Louis will never understand how he can be so long and still curl up like a cat). He's awake though, tracing small circles on the inside of Louis' wrist.  
  
Louis can see Zayn's eyes flit over to Liam every few minutes, but the car is comfortably silent.  
  
"I love you guys," Louis blurts suddenly, his own voice startling him.  
  
It's silent for a moment, and then,  
  
"We love you too Tommo s'just the best you are the best friend," Niall slurs.  
  
They all laugh and Zayn catches his eye from the front seat, giving him a small nod, like he understands.  
  
Because Louis wants them to. To understand how much he means that. How much he appreciates all three of them for just being them, for loving him, and Harry too, still. And giving them a safe place to just be happy. He's knows a lot of other people aren't so lucky.  
  
They all clamor into Niall and Louis' flat when they get to the complex. He's not really sure why, but somehow, separating right now just doesn't really feel right.  
  
Harry goes straight for his room when they get inside, Zayn goes to the kitchen and Liam navigates Niall to his bedroom before he falls face-first into the carpet.  
  
Louis follows Harry after a minute. The lights are off when he gets inside his room and Harry is a solid form beneath his duvet.  
  
"C'mere," he says, holding his long arm out like it could somehow reach Louis all the way by the door and pull him over to the bed. Louis smirks and turns to close his bedroom door, but stops when he sees Liam walk into the kitchen through the sliver that's still open.  
  
Zayn sets his glass of water down on the counter and suddenly they're standing an inch apart and Louis doesn't even think about breathing. Zayn looks like he isn't either, from what Louis can tell. Because it doesn't stop there. They hover in each other's space for a few seconds and then Liam -  _Liam_  - is surging forward and kissing Zayn. Louis' mouth drops open and Zayn is just as slack-jawed when Liam draws back and stares at him unsurely.  
  
"Kiss him, you idiot," Louis whispers and just like that, Zayn is pulling Liam back in.  
  
Louis has to stop himself from pumping his fist into the air.  
  
"Babe," Harry whines, "What are you doing? If you're not over here in three seconds, i'm going to get really angry."  
  
Louis covers his snort in the palm of his hand. He decides that now is probably a good time to give Liam and Zayn their privacy, though, so he doesn't argue.  
  
"That's hardly an incentive, darling," he teases, closing the door on his friends and walking over to get in the bed.  
  
"Why not?" Harry pouts.  
  
Louis smirks and leans down to kiss him, "Because I happen to think you're really sexy when you're pissed off."  
  
Harry smacks him in the chest, but Louis grabs his hand and pulls them together, kissing him long and deep. When they break apart, Harry just stares at him for several drawn out seconds.  
  
"What?"  
  
Harry shakes his head, dimple appearing even though he's trying not to smile too wide. "M'just happy."  
  
Louis bites his lip, and he can feel his own heart, and Harry fills him a little bit more with something he still spends every day trying to understand, to put a name to. He thinks it's okay though, if he's never able to. Because it doesn't scare him anymore.  
  
"Me, too," he says.  
  
Harry smiles sleepily and turns so Louis can slide up behind him. He's asleep in minutes, snoring soft and even.  
  
Louis tries to fall asleep for several minutes, but can't seem to. He checks to see that Harry is still out and then turns over to rummage beneath his bed. He finds the shoebox that he'd placed there when they got back yesterday and pulls it out.  
  
He sits up and uses his phone as a light as he opens it and pulls out the first letter. He has to re-read what he's written, because he can only imagine what some of it says. A lot of it is funny. Some of Harry's responses on the back are even funnier. Especially the one where he writes in all capital letters that 'YOU CANNOT SLEEP IN MRS. BRAVERMAN'S CLASS YOU LIAR'.  
  
Louis spends the next half hour reading them. He re-reads Harry's responding letters twice over, trying to picture him on those exact days. He's still not sure why Harry never gave these to him. These notes were never something they talked about, but they weren't something they  _couldn't_  talk about, either. He stops wondering when he gets to the last letter, the one for when Harry was starting Year 11, the last one Louis ever wrote him.  
  
There's not a whole lot on the back. All of Harry's other notes filled the back page, sometimes into the margins even. But this one has only three sentences on it, in blue ink and a neat hand. The first two are scratched through.  
  
 _ ~~There's something I want to tell you, but i'm scared to. So i'm going to write it here instead. It's not like i'm ever going to show you these, so I don't suppose it matters. But. Yeah. I don't really know when it started~~  
  
 ~~Last week, at yours, when we were watching the telly, I think I wanted to kiss you~~  
  
I asked Robin last night how you know that you love someone. He said "it's just something you know."  
  
P.S. I hope you don't mind. But I put my initials under the desks too.  
  
H x_  
  
Louis' eyes well with tears, and he pulls his tshirt up and shuts his eyes tight into the fabric for a minute. He places the letter back into the box so he can put them back under the bed. Before he does, he spots the photo of him and Harry that Anne gave him at the bottom of the box, and plucks it out. He stares at it for a minute, smile lighting up his face.  
  
He leans over to put it on his night table, propping it up against the base of his lamp, their smiling faces the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes and turns back to Harry, wrapping his arms around his middle from behind and nuzzling into his neck.  
  
As Louis falls asleep, he takes quiet comfort in the fact that he doesn't have to ever wonder if they'll be okay.  
  
 _It's just something you know.  
  
  
_

 

 

 

-fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I am actually very sad that this is over. I didn't think i'd get as emotional over it as I am. This was my first chapter fic and I never thought I could attempt let alone finish something like this. I've been writing this since July of last year, and when I wanted to quit after losing my mom, you guys encouraged me to keep going. Thank you all so much for every comment, like, reblog, post, message, etc. It means the whole to me that this fic meant something to anyone out there other than me. So, yeah, thanks. I love you, guys. And I wouldn't say this is the last time i'll ever dabble in the LtB verse. I think i'm too attached to it to let it go completely. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got my AO3 invite so I decided to post this over here. It's nearly complete (only a few chapters to go!). Also posted at my lj (youcomecrash) and tumblr (drunkharrystyles) though a slightly more edited/cleaned up version will be posted here.


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